Safest at Home
by KellyGrimm48
Summary: Mai Winchester holds down the fort while her uncles are out hunting, but when a young hunter steps into the picture things become more complicated. OC/OC romance in the Supernatural world. (Post season 5, slightly AU.) Updates on Tuesdays.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First fanfic ever; sort of excited mostly terrified. I am in no way shape or form a proper writer. This idea just came to me one night and I felt like sharing it. This is mostly my original characters with hints of Sam and Dean just a warning. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy!**

The lone passenger walks off the bus. Toxic exhaust fumes float past the girl as the driver closes the door and speeds off. He is eager to return to the dispatching center. Mai Winchester looks down at the tattered bench that serves as her bus stop for school. Her actual house is a quarter of a mile up the highway, at the end of a hidden driveway, and tucked back in the woods. A sigh escapes her mouth. She pulls the backpack in her hand up over her shoulder and embarks on the walk home.

The over cast sky above her is spot on for mid-October in rural Pennsylvania. It threatens to rain over the rolling hills, but never follows through. A cold breeze cuts through Mai's sweater as she walks up the winding highway aligned with the side of the mountain. The trees above her rustle their branches and fallen leaves dance around on the ground like they are children playing a game of tag. The girl notes the bold colors of the leaves; gold, red, brown, green, bright yellow and rusty orange. Fall is her second favorite season, passed up by spring. Pieces of ash blonde hair fly into her face. She adjusts her thick sweater, pulling the sleeves over her hands, and continues onward at a slightly quicker pace. She can just about see the dead pine that stands beside the entrance to her property.

Mai shuffles her feet towards the mailbox and gathers the day's heap; bills, circulars, a catalog for "Rustic Men" clothing company, a letter from Dean. Mai stashes the mail in her backpack and jogs up the lengthy gravel driveway. Thick woods surround her on both sides until she reaches the end which holds the clearing that her house was built in. The teenager hurries up the steps of the porch. She removes her key from her skirt pocket and unlocks both deadbolts and the handle of her front door. The house is old; an 1895 white farmhouse with a large covered porch that wraps around the north and east sides. Its faded blue shutters are nearly falling off, the banisters are gone in some places, the attic window is cracked down the center, thick weeds and overgrown bushes landscape the front bed, but it is home.

Mai slips off her boots upon entering the house. It is a rule, a strict rule that she herself enforces. It's easier to abide by it when the boys are gone and she has the house to herself. She did frequently have the house to herself for long periods of time, just like now. She places her boots in the coat closet under the staircase and walks into kitchen. The white kitchen is surprisingly fresh compared to the shabby exterior. A large window faces out the front of the house with the sink underneath it. A braided rug adorns the rich chestnut floors, while a white farm table and four miss-matched white chairs sit atop it. Mai places her backpack on the floor and slides into a chair. Her face is expressionless and dry as she retrieves the mail from her bag. Sorting it out, bills in one pile, junk in another, she reaches Dean's letter.

Her uncle doesn't normally send her mail; she tears off the end uneasily and removes the letter. It reads as so:

_"Mai,_

_ Sammy and I will be back in town soon, probably be there in two, three days tops. We're heading over to Bobby's place now. Here's some money. I hope you're doing okay. _

_ We switched our phones again, so don't try calling yet. _

_ We both miss you a lot. _

_ -Dean" _

Mai closes the letter. Dean is rarely the one to touch base with her, Sam usually sends her money and keeps her up to date on where they are.

It has been two weeks since she's talked to either of her uncles. Commonly used to being on the out of their hunting trips she didn't fret. She understands that they can't always contact her, and that they do the best they can. The rule was that if the boys were not heard from in a month she's supposed to call Bobby to pick her up. Sam has always done a good job of keeping her informed on their whereabouts, especially when they leave for extended periods of time. Their current trip was an easy in and out case; a shifter outside of Norfolk, Nebraska. She had no reason to be fearful about not hearing from them, but she's always grateful to know they are okay.

The sixteen year old folds the letter again and places it back in the envelope. She slouches in her chair, stretching her legs out. Starring off into space she picks at a chip in the table's paint. She isn't really thinking about anything in particular, just feeling tired. The fridge kicks on; its hum fills the previously dead kitchen. Mai shifts in her seat, pulling her legs back underneath her chair and pushing her face into the soft hands that rest on the table. She's hungry; she hadn't eaten breakfast this morning. She is also lazy and can't rally enough interest in food to encourage her to leave her spot. They only have a slice of bread, half a dozen eggs, and some strawberries on the verge of rotting the refrigerator anyway. She needs to go to the store tonight so that there will be food when her uncles return. For right now, she just rests her eyes. The table top isn't the most comfortable spot but she slowly begins to slip into an unconscious state.

Sticky drool drips down the girls face. Groggy but refreshed Mai lifts her head and looks at her watch. 4:45; It's only been an hour. She stretches upwardly and makes her way out of the seat, a bit stiff from napping on wood. A beam of warm sunshine falls over where her body had laid. The weather outside had cleared up while she slept. The sun came out; the wind died down, over all it looks more inviting as she gazes out the window. Which is a good thing, she needs to head over to the store before dark. Mai takes little time to gather her things before she locks the two deadbolts and door, shaking it to double check its security.

There is a grocery store a couple miles from here in the shopping plaza outside of town, but Mai doesn't have a car. Even if she did she only has her permit. She'll walk a mile and a half to the Speedy Hut gas station and general store, where she usually shops. A grateful little smile spreads across her lips as the sun touches her freckled cheeks and nose. The weather is far kinder to her this evening than it had been on her journey home from the bus. It's a blessing; someone up there must be looking out for her. She dredges onward dragging her feet a little, not all of her body is fully awake yet. It will be soon.

Twenty-five minutes pass by the time she steps foot in the green roofed building. Sunny as it is, it's still October and her fingers had begun to feel tingly shortly after leaving the driveway. Mai walks over to the space heater near the cash register, catching the attention of the previously boarded looking attendant. The boy, who is about Mai's age smiles as he watches her rub her hands in front of the heating unit. He is average height and thin, with a mop of auburn hair.

"Hi Winchester." He says to her. Mai's fingers regain proper blood flow; she walks over to the register and picks up a shopping basket.

"Hello Walter." Her eyes survey the small store. A wet floor sign is set up next to a mop and bucket in aisle three; boxes of merchandise are stacked ready to be stocked onto the shelves towards the front of the store. No other humans are in sight. "Just you tonight?" She finally asks. Walter presses his lips together, nodding his head.

"Yep, well my manager is in the back but I'm pretty sure he's on 'break'" the boy makes air quote with his fingers, insinuating that his boss is most likely asleep on the job, as usual.

"It's not that bad though, it hasn't been busy. No one's really come in until you." Walter gives a bit of a coy smile. His crush on Mai has been going on since ninth grade; the moment she sat down next to him at lunch on their first day.

Walter is Mai's only friend. He knows practically nothing about her. She keeps quite about her family and home life, only once did she mention that she lives with her uncles. Walt of course remembered this. He also remembered that her favorite color is lavender. She doesn't like dogs or hamsters. She prefers waffle over pancake, Coke over Pepsi, and doesn't like olives on her pizza. None of these things she had outright declared to him. He simply observed them over the years. The only thing he solidly knows about her, is that she is the kindest, gentlest soul he's ever encountered.

"I apologize for interrupting your musical meditation and critical reading," She gestures to the headphones draped around his neck and the comic book in his hand. She smiles at her friend, "I'll be out of your hair soon, I just need to pick up some things. You wouldn't happen to have flour would you?"

"Aisle 5" He motions to the left with his head. Mai taps the counter rhythmically with her palms.

"Thanks Walt." She slides her hands into her skirt pockets and heads towards the baking section. Pie is on her mind; apple pie for Dean. It's a small gesture on her part. Mai grabs a small bag of flour off the shelf.

_Better pick up some sugar while I'm here_.

About twenty minutes later her basket is full and she's standing in front of the dairy case trying to decide on whether or not to get milk. They need milk, especially if the boys are coming home, but her basket is already filled to the brim and heavy. She peers out the front window to see the sun beginning to fade and dusk setting in. The teenager nervously bites her cheek, still staring out the window.

"You know, I can give you a ride if you need one Mai." Walter says from behind her. She turns around and watches him replenish the shelves with the contest of the stacked cardboard boxes.

"No, it's okay, you're working. I'll just get milk later this week." Her eyes never leave his hands as they move back and forth from box to shelf, box to shelf, box to shelf. He stops and wipes them on his green polo work shirt.

"It's fine Mai; I'm scheduled for break in a minute anyway."

"…No, I don't want to bother you, I'm just going to pay and walk home." She starts toward the register. Walt stops her. He opens the dairy case and grabs a gallon of milk and hands it to her.

"Before you try and tell me that you don't have enough money, I know that's crap. But I'm paying for your milk anyway and driving you home. It's not safe for you to be walking out there."

_If only you knew how right you are… _She thinks to herself.

He rings up the milk and pays for it, then begins to check the items in her basket. Mai hands the boy some cash. She assists him with bagging and as they finish he yells out to his boss that he's going on break. Grumbling can be heard from the office, sleepy grumbling. Mai laughs to herself. Walt removes his green polo to revile his black Lord of the Rings tee shirt. He grabs most of the bags out of her hands and takes them out to his car parked in the side lot. Mai puts her few bags in the trunk and slides in the newer looking silver Chevy. The car can't be more than ten years old and the inside smells like cinnamon.

She doesn't usually catch rides with people or let Walt take her home, but it's getting dark and she knows he is set on driving her. Walt is stubborn, but a good friend, she's glad to have him. She's also hopelessly clueless about his crush... Mai is far from a naïve girl, but romance isn't her forte.

Walter slides into the driver's side and turns on the engine. She didn't need to tell him where she lived. He had dropped her off once before and remembered where her driveway was. He has never been to her house; he had never even been invited to her house.

The seatbelt buckles click in unison as both teens strap in. Walter turns on the car and begins driving in the direction of her place. The ride is silent other than the Foreigner CD he has playing. Mai's thoughts are concerned about cleaning up at home. There isn't much to be done, but her pie needs baking, some laundry can be finished up, and the emergency supply in the basement should be double checked. The letter said two or three days till they arrived, given that it took a day for the letter to reach her, they could show up tomorrow if the drive is quick. She hopes that they stay at Bobby's for the night at least when they get there; if they hadn't stopped by and left already. She could call Bobby when she gets home, to see if they were there, but that runs the risk of being forced to talk to Dean, which doesn't excite her.

The car flies past her bus stop, and rolls up the hill. Trees whoosh by in a green haze. Through the window Mai spies the pine. Walter begins to slow down the car as they approach and parks it on the side of the road. The house is barely visible through the thick set of trees; he can only see a sliver of white at the end of the driveway as he exits the car. Mai slips out and makes her way to the back of the vehicle to see the trunk pop open. Walt starts gathering the bags but Mai touches him on the shoulder.

"I've got this from here. Thank you for the ride though." She smiles at her friend. Walt tries to shake off his disappointment. Deep down he knew that she wouldn't invite him in when they arrived here. He would have very much liked to meet this mystery family of hers; to see her real life, outside of school and her visits to Speedy Hut. Even just to walk up that driveway in front of him would have been enough.

Mai's private world is (in his mind) this beautiful, secret thing that added to his infatuation with her. She is a charming, kind person, with an exclusive story to her that only a handful of people get to read. To be invited to hear that story may very well be that greatest honor he'd ever receive. He does not receive that honor. Not that it's even any honor. Her life is far from the romantic ideals he has. In reality, it is terrifying and complicated and a story no one needed to know about.

"Are you sure? It's a lot of bags…"

Mai shrugs her shoulders.

"The driveway's not as long as it seems." She reassures him. "You should be getting back to work anyway."

Walter wishes she would let him assist her more, but he doesn't push it. He hands her the bags plus the gallon of milk and closes the trunk with a soft "clank".

"I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow then…" the boy says from the other side of the car.

"Yep, I'll see you tomorrow, Walt." Mai adds a warm but internally fake smile to her goodbye. She is tired, and just wants to go inside, alone. Walter drops himself into the car and drives off. Mai waits until he is out of sight and finally makes her way up to the house.


	2. Chapter 2

It's solidly dark at a little past 6:00 pm. If there is any remaining sunlight, it's shut out by the trees overhead. Despite the gravel and dried leaved that crunch under her boots, her footsteps are quite. The air around her is heavy. She readjusts the bags as they begin to slip off her arm, her feet move at a slow waddling pace. In one fell swoop a cold bead of water falls on her nose from the sky. She looks up and hears fat raindrops begin to pour around her. The appalling weather has returned. Rain instantly begins to pound down in dense sheets, soaking through her sweater, matting down her hair. Mai quickens to a slow run, being weighed down by her groceries. The rain continues, Mai reaches the clearing breathlessly. With a last determined push, she sprints to the porch.

All the bags fall out of her hands and onto the wooden surface. The young lady leans against the house to catch her breath.

INHALE, exhale… INHALE, exhale… INHALE, exhale…. Inhale…

"CRACK!" Thunder and lightning erupted from the sky. Mai jumps out of her skin, and gives a harsh gasp.

_What in the hell? We never get thunderstorms this late in the year! _

A brisk wind howls through the covered porch. Mai's heart beat is rapid and slightly uneven; she digs around in her pocket for the keys.

_Come on where are you? It's cold as balls out here. _

"BOOOOM!" another burst of thunder and lightning, this time closer than before. Again she jumps and her heart rate quickens. The tip of her finger grazes the key.

"Gotcha' you little sucker!" Mai pulls the set out of her pocket, shakily unlocking the door.

More wind rages through, nearly blowing away the bags at her feet. Finally she swings the door open. Wet boots squeak against the tile as the grocery bags get drug into a pitch black entranceway. Another gush of wind heaves the front door back 180 degrees. The loud slam instantly tells Mai that it's cracked the siding; the difficulty of pulling it back confirms that it's lodged in the side of the house. After fighting with it for a few minutes, she reclaims her front door and pulls it closed with an aggressive slam.

The house is dark. The world outside is dark. Lightning strikes across the sky, brightening the room for a mere second, enough time for Mai to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Soaked, she is completely and utterly soaked. Drips of water roll off her. A sudden burst of rage and frustration sweeps over her and she falls to the floor. For a long time she lays there. She does not move she does not speak; she spreads out on the linoleum floor and absorbs the darkness. Rain continues to pound on the house, wind keeps howling, the shutters rattle and shake, lightning strikes, with thunder not two seconds behind. She does not move she does not speak.

_Home. Home alone. Glad to be home..._

The rain finally starts to slow after twenty minutes or so. Mai is a little less soaked, but cold. It occurs to her that the house is freezing. A fire should be built. She stands up. As cold and wet as she is, she should put away the groceries she'd just purchased. After all that just happened, she'd be damned if she let the food go to waste. Feet shuffle into the kitchen; her hand feels around for the switch on the wall and flips in on. Light is a little blinding after she had become accustom to the blackness. The milk gets slid onto the refrigerator shelf, the eggs find their way to the door, and all the other perishable foods snuggle into their chilly home inside the icy vessel. She'll put away what's left in the bags tomorrow. All she wants now is something hot to drink.

She starts making a pot of decaf coffee; four scoops of ground beans for extra strength. She likes her coffee strong, with a kick. Mai leaves the coffee to brew. Maneuvering in the dark house is not a problem. She steps out of the kitchen, into the small entranceway, turning left down the hall and into the large living room. Without turning on another light, Mai stacks a few logs in the fireplace, sets up some kindling and lights a match. The soft orangey glow of fire radiates throughout the room.

The living room resembles any other farmhouse living room. Wood floors that match the kitchen, aged wallpaper that had been painted various colors throughout the years, a stone fireplace on the back wall of the house. But it has it's "hunter" touches. A large devil's trap painted on the ceiling, salt that lined the windowsills, a few bottles of holy water in the corner. The furniture is older, but taken care of. A couch faces the fireplace, accompanied by a few large and quite comfortable chairs. A bookshelf leans against the wall, covered in photo frames. Mai stares thoughtlessly at the smiling faces across the room from her.

They cannot be seen clearly from that distance with such poor lighting, but Mai knows the contents of the pictures. A once happy, atypical little family; Dean, Sam, Bobby, and herself as a little girl. One picture shows them at the park, a few are from her birthdays; one of Dean building her a treehouse which still stands to this day, another of Sam carrying her on his tall shoulders. A large photo, taken in front of the house, is of both boys chasing her playfully while Mai smiles ear to ear trying to get away before they tag her. In a little frame is a Polaroid of the side of Dean's face as he drives in the Impala. Mai had taken that photo herself the first time she was allowed to sit in the front of the car.

The coffee pot lets off a high pitched alert that it is done. Mai walks over to the bathroom door. The downstairs bathroom is perfectly square and sits in the center of the house, connecting the living room to the kitchen. She unnecessarily closes the door behind her; a force of habit more than an act of privacy. The light is clicked on, a towel is grabbed off of the stand, and her wet clothes fall to the floor. She wraps one larger towel around her body and rubs her hair with a smaller one. She lacks a hairbrush in this bathroom; she mostly uses the one upstairs. With messy hair and wearing nothing but a towel she enters the kitchen and pours herself a cup of Joe. Black, she takes her coffee black.

The girl sips the liquid magic, making her way up the stairs. Each step screamed with the creaks and moans of old floor boards. Her room sits directly at the top of the stairs, in the southwest corner of the house. Readjusting her sliding towel, she opens the door and again maneuvers around without turning on the light. She places her coffee mug on the dresser to the right of the doorway as she snags a pair of underwear from the top drawer, a tank top from the second, and some excessively short shorts from the third. Her usual around the house attire.

She stands in the dark corner of the room, about to put on her "loungewear" when she's stopped by a susurrus in the room. A silent whisper, or shift in the air, she can't tell what exactly, but it feels like something isn't right. Almost as if an invisible force is hovering over her left shoulder. Mai shakes off a chill, which rolls down her spine at the thought.

_It's just cold up here. _None the less she goes over to the light to settle her uneasiness.

"Uneasiness" that isn't really anything, right? Just illuminating the room to play it _super_ safe. It's more than likely nothing. She lives in a safe house, a total and complete safe house, with an internally locked panic room in the basement, devil's traps everywhere, heck there's even an iron track buried in the yard encircling the house. Bobby himself came up to everything-proof the place when they first got it. There is no reason to feel anxious.

Mai switches on the lamp and closes her eyes as she turns around. With a deep breath she opens them. …Nothing. A beautiful amount of nothing is in her room. She feels ridiculous for being nervous.

_I'm safe here. Sam and Dean made sure of that._

She breathes out the breath she has been holding in and then spins around on her heels and steps toward her clothes. She never gets to her clothes. There is a body in the way. A tall, lean, muscular body of a man who's chin is not an inch from her face. Her heart pounds and she looks up at him; dark hair i all she can make out through her petrifying fear.

"…Hel-OW!" the man says as Mai thrusts the palm of her hand upward and smashes his nose with a crack.

He tumbles back a little but remains standing, blocking the door and holding his nose as is begins gushing blood. He starts to say something, but fumbles around for words, not that Mai can actually hear him. She's in panic and wastes no time diving for the door elbowing the stranger in the side as she charges. This officially knocks him to the ground with a moan; out of the way. She makes a run for it; down the stairs, to the basement, still in her towel, screaming the entire way.


	3. Chapter 3

Time moves in slow motion as she practically tumbles down the basement steps. There is someone in her room. There is _SOMETHING_ in her room! She leaps through a doorway at the base of the steps locking the entry behind her. Scrambling down the six foot corridor, she reaches the "Fox Hole", a larger bunker-style space that serves as the emergency shelter. Mai pushes the heavy iron door closed and locks herself in. She lacks enough air in her lungs and gasps for it violently.

_What the hell? WHAT THE HELL!? _Herheartbeat is flying.

Her chest feels tight like it's about to burst. She tries to breathe soothingly and calm her adrenalin. She does not succeed. Still panic-ridden, she leans against the door, breathing rapidly. Upon entering the room, Mai had smacked the switch. Yellowing florescent lights now wearily turn on. It's been months since she was last down here.

The place smells like mothballs and gunpowder, and it's warm. A warmth that's comparable to wearing a sweater on a tropical beach. Bookshelves and storage racks line the four walls, covered in dusty books, unopened cans of food, and packets filled with sterile medical supplies. There are racks that hold ammunition and weapons, others entirely devoted to hefty bags of rock salt.

INHALE, exhale…. INHALE, exhale… Adrenaline still pushes through her.

_You're okay. You're in the Fox Hole. It's okay, breathe. They can't get to you here._

"They" as in the thing in her room and the figure she had seen out of the corner of her eye during her screaming flight through the living room. It was probably just the bookshelf or something right? It couldn't be another guy in the house. In the back of her mind she feels like the figure was human shaped. That's probably just the adrenaline talking; scaring her into seeing things. Terror will do that to a person and she was in pure terror running down here.

Ten minutes feel like a lifetime. Mai's thoughts become more rational, focusing on what to do next.

"Call Uncle Sammy" she says out loud. There is a landline hanging on the wall to the left of the door. She dials his number with shaky fingers. The damn adrenalin. The phone rings through to voicemail.

"Hi, you've reached the mailbox of Sam, leave your name and number and I'll get back to you when I can. BEEEEEEEP."

"Sam" she whisper-shouts, "something is in the house; I'm in the Fox Hole. It's in my room. Get your ass home!" She hangs up the phone and picks in up again, listening for a dial tone to make sure it had disconnected from the last call. Her thumb pounds out Dean's cell phone number. It rings continuously without a voicemail. She tries his second cell. It never rings.

"'Beep, boop, beep' I'm sorry, the number you are calling has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again. 'Beep, boop, beep' I'm sor-" Mai slams the plastic phone back onto its base.

"Damn hunters!" She yells, too frustrated to care if the whatevers upstairs can hear her. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, "why can't you just get here, I swear I'll let you in the house…" She leans her head against the intercom system.

"Um, hello?" a solicitous voice emerges from the intercom box. The foreign sound jolts her upright. If it's speaking through the intercom, then whatever is out there now stands right outside the outer door. Although tempted to turn the machine off, she pushes in the cream "talk" button. She waits a minute before speaking.

"…Get out of my house." Mai tries to sound intimidating and serious, but her voice is weak and her adrenaline is pumping even harder now. She releases the button.

"… I apologize for scaring you," The voice sounds like a man, a younger man, probably close to Mai in age, "I'm not anything evil my na-" Mai interrupts the voice.

"How did you get in here?" She demands.

"I… uh, came in through your window upstairs, it was unlocked…" His voice is reverent and sheepish, getting quieter towards the end of his sentence, "Bobby Singer directed me here; said you'd be able to help?" For a few moments there is silence as Mai processes the information.

"How do I know you're not a shifter or a vampire or a God knows what?"

"…You don't. But my name's Jett Rhone, I'm a hunter I swear."

Mai knows that name. Where does she know that name from? From Bobby's! Two summers ago, she was staying out there over break, a Rhone stopped by, older man, a hunter, with his grandson. This must be his grandson? If Bobby had sent the boy, he would have called her. It crosses her mind that she hadn't bothered to check for messages when she arrived home this evening.

"Miss?" Jett interrupts her thoughts, "I promise I'm not going to hurt you…"

Mai becomes acutely aware of how literally naked she is.

"…Uh, give me a minute here."

She goes over to one of the storage racks and hunts for suitable clothing. There are very few garments down here that actually fit her. She is able to snag a pair of old jeans that seem to work well enough although a bit tight, one of Sam's tee shirts, and a plaid flannel that dwarfs her. She is unsuccessful in finding proper underwear and settles for the smallest pair of boxer-briefs she can find. She does her best to make the outfit presentable, tucking the excess amount of tee shirt into her jeans and rolling up the sleeves on the flannel. She reproaches the intercom.

"I'm going to come out now, but don't try anything you understand, I'll take your ass down." Mai is mostly bluffing, although she does slide a silver knife in her pants against the small of her back. She figures it would be easily in reach, but mostly thinks that it looks cool stashed there.

"You broke my nose for saying 'hi'" He replies through the machine dryly. Mai doesn't respond, unsure of how.

_Femoral artery, hit the femoral artery in the leg. He'll bleed out quickly. …I think. _She envisions slicing the young man's upper thigh if he were to try anything. She prays he doesn't. She has no clue what she is doing when it comes to combat. Unbolting the iron door and releasing the lever, she moves into the corridor.

The few steps that she takes towards the outer door are nerve-wracking. It's a leap of faith trusting that this man, boy, thing, actually is who/what it says. Although in the back of her mind, she feels almost secure that he's telling the truth, but maybe that's just a blindly hopeful wish. Unlocking the outer door gingerly, she finds that her small confidence is correct. He is in fact the boy she had met a few years back. They survey each other for a few moments, Mai still standing in the corridor and Jett looking leery at her while still holding his broken nose.

He is different now than when she had come to meet him. He's older of course, and hansom; ageing well over the past two years. Mai feels guilty about his nose. It's a nice nose, sharp and defined. Nose blood is smeared and dripped down his intense jaw line and over his neck. His skin is fair although darker than hers and his cheekbones are distinct. Even with such strong angular features, his face is still soft and almost child-like. But it's the child-like appearance of a boy who's been abused and beaten; youthful but drained, and crying out for help. The blood she'd caused to flow and the evident scars all over his body add to this effect.

What really cries out to her the most are his eyes. Under a set of dark, fervent brows, lay a pair of limpid blue eyes. Mesmerizing eyes; with a hint of green that extends from his pupils and dances with the incandescent blue. They are nothing like she's seen before. But with their brilliance comes the hurt, worn, destitute mark of a hunter. She can tell instantly that he is human and he is in the line of work that she knows all too well. The line of work that robs many good people of their happiness, their families, and often their lives.

"I'm sorry," She says after a while, "for your nose. I wasn't expecting guests."

"I'm sorry that I scared you, I didn't think anyone was home."

"…We can go upstairs; I can fix that up for you." Mai motions to the steps. Jett on nods his head in response and they make their way up to the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'd like to give a thank you to my first follower (LeahSalvatore01). It's rather encouraging to see that someone wants to read my story/procrastination tool. (I should be working on school…) **

**I apologize that this chapter is so short. When I first started writing I didn't separate out chapters very well and they ended up very long, so I chopped them at the convenient points. I have a few chapters written out and ready to go. They will be longer! I'm currently writing chapter nine.**

**I'll try to publish on a weekly basis of Tuesdays. (Because, you know) **

**And fair warning, I have very limited medical knowledge but I did some Googleing! **

**Read up.**

* * *

Jett sits to the left of her at the kitchen table. Alcohol and bandages are spread out over the table as Mai works on his face. She repositions the nose, which is not quite as broken as they both originally thought and cleans the blood off his face with a wet cloth.

"So Bobby said I could help?" Mai asks without looking up from his nose.

"Yeah, there's a djinn two towns over." Jett's voice is awkward as he tries not to breathe out of his nose, "lamb's blood, you have any?"

Mai leans in closer and pulls the broken skin on his nose together with a butterfly bandage. He smells a bit like cigars masked with a fresh linen fragrance. He must be wearing fresh clothes, fresh enough that the detergent hadn't worn off, so he couldn't have been hunting before he came here. There is something else too, although very subtle. Mai knows it to be Amber, that warm, resinous scent that produces a faint prickle at the back of the nose. It's a commonly used base for cologne. Mai leans back in her seat and hands him a fresh cloth for him to finish cleaning up.

"I think Dean has some in the study, I can get some for you." She says.

Jett heaves himself from his chair and walks over to the kitchen sink, wetting the cloth. He begins to wipe down his neck and hands. Mai notices his physique is different than most hunters. His muscles are toned, but he is still rather slim. He's about five foot eleven she guesses, with room to grow. He wears dark skinny jeans and a grey long sleeve shirt. Mai wonders how he can hunt in those pants, they have to be uncomfortable to fight and run in. But then again, he probably hasn't been hunting in that outfit based on its fresh scent. She reminds herself that she's perceptive, not creepy, for observing people's smells.

"I would appreciate that, thank you." Jett responds.

Mai slips through the bathroom and living room and walks down a hall. She passes Dean's closed bedroom door. Making a left at the corner and goes into the study. It's a shared space between Dean and Sam with two desks, walls lined entirely with bookshelves, and lots of books. Books are everywhere; on the floor, half shoved on the shelves, papers sprawled out over the desks, books open with notes in them, books stacked on the chairs. They litter the entire room. Mai tip-toes over the leather-bound piles of information. In Dean's desk drawer she finds a vial of blood; sticky, putrid smelling lambs blood.

She sets the vial on the table upon reentering the kitchen. Jett nods in thanks, finishing up at the sink. He is less than talkative with her. He wrings out excess water from the now bloodstained cloth and places it in the sink. More silence passes, with Mai leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom and Jett standing across the room from her with his hands pockets. It doesn't appear that Jett will be first to initiate conversation. Mai doesn't mind his remoteness, but she breaks the quite streak after a few minutes.

"Would you like to rest here for the night? I was planning on making some dinner before our encounter." She had not given dinner any previous thought, "The guest bedroom upstairs is made up. It's no inconvenience."

Mai tugs at a string on the gigantic flannel after combing her dusty blonde hair out of her face. She was right. It isn't any inconvenience; she's always housing hunter friends that stop by. Even though Jett isn't kith, she feels compelled to offer him a decent bed and a proper meal. It's the least she can do after bashing his nose in. She is still equal parts guilty and impressed with herself for that feat.

Jett, who has been rather stoic and reserved since their face to face, softens for a moment. He looks down at the floor, the corners of his mouth twitch into a tiny, sad smile.

"I can't stay the night but thank you." He leans against the sink and returns to his passive state, now crossing his arms over his chest.

"What about something to eat?" Mai gives the string a tug and snaps if from the flannel. She begins to roll it into a ball in between her forefinger and thumb. Jett shakes his head and give a little shrug.

"No, thank you."

"Is there anything I _can_ get you?" Hostess Mai offers. Jett thinks for a moment.

"Would it be okay if I stay here for a little bit? For a few hours tops, just to sit for a while?"

"Sure, if you don't need anything else…"

"Thank you." Jett says, "Would you like me to fix that fire in the other room? It's burned down quite a bit."

Mai nods and thanks him. He heads towards the entranceway, taking the hall down to the living room before Mai hears wood being shifted from the rack to the fireplace. She closes her eyes, still leaning against the doorframe, breathing out an exhausted sigh. Pushing herself towards the table, she cleans up the medical supplies, and then joins him in the fire-lit room. The couch absorbs her as she sits down in front of the heat source. Nothing is to be heard but the crackle of burning logs and the occasional distant car off the highway.

Jett sits on the edge of one of the large plush chairs. He stares at the fireplace without really looking at it. Mai stares at Jett; really looking at the boy. Looking at the bruises starting to form around his nose. Looking at his dark brown unruly hair that's cut shorter on the sides but then long enough to fall close to his eyebrows. Looking at his jaw which clicks as he grits his teeth. Looking at his hands that are clasped together on his knees. Looking at his shoes which are a pair of black Converse high tops. Looking at him, thinking that he does not fit the bill for most hot shot hunter boys. He's a hunter for sure, and not someone you would want to fight in a dark alley, but he's somehow different.

They sit there and listen to the fire for a couple hours. The only movements made are by Jett as he pokes at the fire to get it burning again. He's now comfortably lounging in the plush chair. Mai is curled up across the couch, no longer looking at Jett. She's focusing in and out on the fire. Her eyelids begin to droop, her breathing shallows, she fights to stay awake.

_What's resting your eyes going to hurt? Your mind is still awake…_

She loses the fight, slipping into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Here's a longer chapter as promised. It was difficult to wait a week to publish. I've had this chapter ready to go for a while, but I'm trying to pace myself. I'm currently writing chapter ten and will need to take a break to finish up school. But I have enough to keep publishing for the next month. No worries, I won't blink out on you guys. When I say "Updates Tuesdays", I mean it. **

**As a side note; I'm not sure how long you can expect this story to run. I've only scraped the surface of where the story needs to go. There's definitely more to come and as I'm writing, the chapters are becoming longer and longer. I think you guys will enjoy it though. I sure enjoy writing it. **

**Without further ado, read on.**

* * *

Two strong arms pick Mai up off the couch. They cradle her as she wakes up slightly. She pulls her own arms in and grabs hold of the person's shirt, it smells like Amber and faintly like fresh linen. She nestles her head against the person's chest as they carry her up the steps. It's not a smooth ride, but Mai is still in La La land, all she cares about is getting comfortable enough to fall back asleep. The arms lay her down in a bed and she instantly sprawls out, finding the softest spot to resume her slumber. A blanket is pulled up over her. She grabs hold of a feather pillow, wrapping her arms around it. Resting her head on its coolness, she feels entirely too tired to thank the set of arms that are now running their fingers over her hair. Mai relaxes every muscle in her body and drifts down sleepy time lane.

Her dreams are of Jett, replaying Bobby's house that summer.

The air was hot and thick, the sky was grey, and the garage was uncomfortable and muggy. She was fifteen and had been sent out by Sam against her will. Nothing against Bobby, she loved spending time with Bobby, what upset her was that Sam sent her away for a week. Being there was better than being anywhere near Dean and Sam though, especially Dean. She hoped that they would both be gone by the time she got home. She wanted to be alone for once. She wanted to be alone more than anything this week.

She was tinkering with an old toaster in the garage. She had no clue what she was doing, but she enjoyed taking things apart. Bobby, not so sure on how to entertain a fifteen-year-old girl, gave her a bunch of random appliances to play around with. So far, four days into the trip, she'd torn apart a radio, two ancient TV remotes, half of a toaster, and an alarm clock. The alarm clock had be especially fun since she had climbed onto the roof of the garage and threw it to the ground. Watching it shatter felt good, getting out some pent up aggression felt good.

Bobby never once asked her about the reason Sam sent her out. She figured Sam had already filled him in on everything, but she was glad she didn't have to talk about it. She was glad to be able to smash alarm clocks and eat her meals in silence, and not have Bobby force her to talk to either of her uncles. Bobby seemed to get that she wanted space from them; that or he was just completely clueless on how to deal with a brooding teenage girl. She figured it was probably a combination of both.

One night a set of hunters stop by; an older man, Ned Rhone who was a little older than Bobby, and his grandson. The boy was probably around seventeen, his hair was buzzed short and fuzzy, his clothes were classic hunter garb; straight jeans, army jacket, tee shirt, combat boots. Mai paid little attention to him really. He was quiet, and to her, just another hunter to stop by Bobby's place. The freckled lass, was too caught up in Ned's story about their latest hunt after a nest of vampires. It was a chilling story, full of blood and decapitation. Not the kind of tale she normally cared to listen too, but she enjoyed hearing about the people they had saved. After the story was over the grandson excused himself and slipped out onto the back porch.

"Go join him." Bobby advised. "He's close you your age, I'm sure you two would be able to find something to talk about." She knew he was just trying to get her out of her disgruntled funk. She really wanted to ignore the guy and go throw another clock off the garage roof. He was kinda moody and distant, but then again, so was she. She figured that Bobby hadn't asked much of her all week; she could at least do this. She found the grandson sitting on the steps of the porch, looking out at the salvage yard.

"Hi" Mai said as she took a seat beside him. He looked at her and smirked a little. He wore a pair of aviator sunglasses and Mai couldn't see his eyes.

"Hi"

"Million dollar view right there." She gestured out to the yard, trying to spark a conversation.

"Yep."

"…yep" Mai returned.

"Do you hunt?" he asked her.

"No. My uncles used to."

"Good." If his sunglasses were taken off you would have seen the remote look in his eyes.

"Well… okay then." Mai was lost on how to talk to him. "I already know that hunting hurts everyone around you…"

"You're young and seem innocent; don't get involved in this life."

"I'm fifteen. I'm not young and innocent." She exclaimed a bit offended.

The boy never responded. She was growing tired of philosophical anti-hunter talk. For the rest of their time out there they sat in silence, listening to the crickets chirp and watching the sun start to go down. Then after dark, Ned came out to say goodbye and they left. Mai didn't even say goodbye to the boy, she only smiled at his grandfather.

* * *

Sunshine gleams in through the blinds as she wakes up. Her legs are kind of sweaty from sleeping in jeans and the back of her neck is soaked from the flannel and blankets. Her hair feels greasy and messy from throwing her head under her pillows as she slept. Her eyes blink again and again, trying to wake up, but really feeling like she could lay there for another hour or so. She turns her head and looks at the clock. 9:42. Second Period is almost over and she's not at school.

The terror of being this late for school knocks all sleepiness out of her. She rushes downstairs to the kitchen. She has to get her backpack, she has to find a ride, she has to brush her hair, her teeth, is there even time for coffee? Beelining from the steps to the kitchen, her mind is halted by the presence of another. Before her brain can process the foreigner standing in her way she smacks into them and they grab her as she stumbles backward. They hold her close while she gains a proper stance on her legs.

"Woah. Where's the fire?" The man exclaims with a hint of sarcasm.

Mai looks up and sees Sam's face. Looking behind him she sees Dean cooking scrambled eggs at the stove.

"School, I'm late for school." She says with a hint of shock, her face still squished against Sam's arm. He lets her go not before she smells a hint of Amber and linen on his shirt.

_So it was Uncle Sammy…?_

"I called in this morning and told them you wouldn't be coming" Sam informs her, "'Family emergency'".

Mai steps back and looks at her "family emergency". Sam has started setting out plates at the table and Dean is serving up eggs straight from the pan. They sit down to eat, Sam taking a seat next to the plate-less spot. Dean awkwardly sits at the head of the table and Mai walks over, unenthusiastically taking her chair. She knows exactly what Sam's doing, forcing her to sit next to Dean. For the first time since entering the kitchen, Mai makes eye contact with her older uncle. He returns it and nods stiffly.

"Mai." He says gruffly, looking down again at breakfast.

"Dean" Mai returns. They eat in a silence, out of her peripheral vision she can see Sam's face is a little disappointed.

_What did you expect? _She mentally asks him. _It's only the second time he's been home since he left._

"Did you get my message from last night?" She asks Sam. He trades his disappointed look for one of annoyance.

"No, your uncle dropped my phone into a river a couple days ago." He makes his signature bitch face. "Was it important?" Mai shakes her head in a lie.

"No, I was just curious of where you two were at."

They finish breakfast with Sam telling her about the hunt. Other than the lost phone nothing of importance or excitement really occurred. She and Dean do not communicate with each other the entire meal. The awkward tension in the air is so thick it's almost difficult to breathe.

"How long are you staying?" Mai asks Sam as they wash dishes. Dean retreated to his room immediately after finishing his eggs.

"A couple weeks unless something comes up before then." He dries a plate and places it back in the cupboard. Leaning against the counter, Sam crosses his arms, looking down at his niece. "So… are you going to talk to him?"

_Are you freaking serious?_

"Sam, don't." is her answer. That doesn't seem to be good enough for him.

"You two are just going to ignore each other for the next couple week?" His voice is stern, but soft. He clearly doesn't want to be overheard by his brother.

"We'll be fine." This is not a conversation she is ready to have. It brings up flustering waves of guilt and anger.

"Mai…" Sam's hazel eyes yield a puppy dog sadness tinted with concern.

"I don't want to do this. Not right now…" She speaks honestly.

It surprises her how straight she's being. Sam starts at a response but he closes his mouth. He instead choices to walk over and give her a hug; one filled with apologies and a relief to be back home. "I'm sorry and I missed you" it says.

The top of her head barely touches his shoulder, reaching more at his chest, but that's what comforts her the most. For the first time, Mai feels like Sam can shelter her from everything. Every monster, every demon, every ghost, every evil thing out there, every bad moment in her life, every stupid fight with Dean. It's a new feeling, and it causes her to choke back a small tear.

They break their embrace and Sam lends a sad half smile. Inside she wishes for another hug, feeling like this one is cut an eternity too short, but she doesn't admit that to herself. Mai just returns his sad smile and leaves to go get dressed in her own clothes.

Sam and Dean only remain at the house for a week before a case pops up, one freaky triple suicide in Boston. The coldness between Mai and Dean remains the same for the duration of their stay. Not once during that time does she mention her encounter with Jett. She tells herself it's not important, but in reality she fears that her uncles will freak out even though she handled the situation. The number one rule is "No strangers in the house". No anyone in the house really, unless the boys sent them there.

So what's the point of bringing up the young hunter? Jett is gone and he isn't coming back.


	6. Chapter 6

Months pass. In February of the following year, the boys are home for a few days. Limited progress had been made between Dean and Mai. Sam forces them to sit next to each other at meals, other than that he doesn't get too involved anymore. Living together is becoming easier though. When the boys are home, the silence is less awkward. Conversations do occur, although short and to the point.

_"Heat of the moment!"_ Mai's alarm clock blares this Wednesday morning. She groans, wishing she could throw this alarm clock off Bobby's garage roof. The time reads 6:48.

_Damn it! _

Somehow she overslept. She runs out of her bedroom and throws herself into the shower, stripping on the way down the hall. It's the fastest shower she's ever taken, and one of the coldest. Hair in towel and herself in her robe, she rushes back to her room to get dressed. The outfit she has picked out the night before sits on her desk. The praxis of laying out the next day's clothes is one she started back in third grade. Today's choice is a pair of distressed bootcut jeans and a grey oversized sweater. Her hair is still partially wet as she braids it and pins the braids up into two buns on either side of her head. She pulls her long fringy bangs down in her face. Throwing her makeup bag in her backpack, she grabs some thick socks and leaves.

Dean stands in the hallway, cup of coffee in hand. He stares down at the pink, lace-trimmed underwear that lay on the floor in front of the bathroom. Mai steps out into the hall and freezes as she sees him. Dean looks up at her awkwardly, not quite sure what to say. He clears his throat.

"Good morning"

"Morning" Mai says as she rushes over and grabs her underwear off the floor, still blushing.

_Bad morning. _

"Aren't you going to be late for the bus?" He asks, taking a sip of coffee and avoiding eye contact.

"Yes, I am." Mai shoves her underwear in her back pocket and heads for the steps.

Halfway down the driveway she looks at her watch, 7:04. She has about sixty seconds to get to her bus stop in time. She runs down past the dead pine, as fast as she can to the bus stop. When she gets there it's 7:07. The bus is gone, left without her. The driver probably didn't even stop after he saw she wasn't there. She tries to catch her breath, running is not her forte. She loathes it actually. Time is of the essence now. She realizes that one of her uncles is going to need to give her a ride.

Bursting through her front door she almost runs smack into Dean.

"Hey." He says.

Mai heaves for oxygen, spinning her hands in the air trying to communicate. Her brain has decided to stop using words, or at least hide them from her mouth. Dean takes a guess.

"Did you miss the bus?"

She nods violently.

"Okay." Dean grabs his coat heads out the front door. The Impala is housed in the old barn turned makeshift garage. They both pull open the large barn doors to find Dean's baby safe, protected against the elements.

The inside of the car is freezing on a day like today. Snow already eight inches deep with the sky producing more, ice covering everything, wind that cuts through to the bone. February is a dreaded month for Mai. The weather is perpetually grey and dreary. Everything is coated in dirty road salt residue. Every tree is barren. Over all, the world looks dead. It isn't like in December or January, where the snow is pretty and winter is accepted. No, by the time February rolls around everyone is sick of cold and grey and dirty. Cabin fever starts to set in and everyone longs for the warmth of rain and the growth of spring. Especially Mai Winchester. She longs for spring the most.

As the car starts, a Metallica tapes blasts through the speakers. Mai doesn't say anything, but Dean leans over and turns the volume down. It plays at a softer decibel. He doesn't even look at her as they drive down to the highway. She wonders if he's upset that she missed the bus and he has to bother taking her to school.

Mai can't really believe that he's still mad at her, but nothing has been said to clear up where they stand. Even after months, they still haven't talked about it. She herself doesn't know how she feels. Some days she's over it all, some days she's red hot and filled with hatred. It all depends on the day and the extent of her worthless rage.

_We should be fine. He's here isn't he? Giving me a ride to school? That means we're fine… _she doesn't really believe that either.

She looks over at the uncle who things are "fine" with. He's still in flannel pajama bottoms and a tee shirt, his hair messy, she wonders if he has even brushed his teeth yet this morning. Some sun shines through the window as they cruise down the wood-lined highway. The rays of light flicker in and out through the trees, flashing light upon Dean's face. He's focused on the road. Mai watches and it reminds her of being in the front seat for the first time; the moment that she snapped the Polaroid that now sits in the living room. They were both happy then.

"So how's school going?" He asks her seeming cautious of his words but sincere. Dean instigating conversation is a pleasant surprise to Mai.

"School's going well." Talking to him is slightly unnerving for some reason. Her reply doesn't feel like enough, so she takes a chance and adds more detail.

"There's a test this morning. Somehow I overslept or my clock got reset…"

Dean nods and the conversation ends.

It takes them less than ten minutes to reach their destination. Barkville, Pennsylvania is a small farm town. The high school sits at one end of Main St. which is practically the only road in town. All local shops and restaurants are situated along this thoroughfare. Dean pulls the car up in front of the brick building. Mai grabs her backpack off the floor and is about to go inside when she stops. She turns to her uncle and looks him dead in the eyes.

Confusion branches out over his face, anticipating her to announce something. Mai just looks at him biting the inside of her mouth, knowing something has to happen, but at a loss. For a chick, she sucks at chick flick moments. Dean nods his head forward and raises his eyebrow, silently asking, "_What?" _ Mai opens her mouth partially to speak but nothing comes out, her brow furrows at her inability to find words. Dean's at a loss as well on what she's attempting to do, although in the back of his mind he already knows. This moment has gone on for too long, so he labels it as "teenage girl stuff" in his head, and breaks the heavy quietness.

"You're going to be late." He says plainly.

Warmth rushes to Mai's face. She is going to be late. This is stupid; she needs to get out of the car. Burying the disappointment in herself with a mental lie of '_things are fine';_ she pulls up her backpack again. Words finally fall out of her mouth.

"Thanks Dean." She exits the car and rushes up the school steps.

_No chick flick moments. We're fine._

* * *

Today's lunch consists of a slice of BBQ chicken pizza, a cup of applesauce, some wilted salad, and an unsweetened iced tea. It was okay. She's had better meals, definitely less salty ones. The pizza tastes like her uncles fought it off with salt rounds. After two bites she moves on to the apple sauce to refresh her pallet.

"Are you going to eat that?" Walt asks from across the table. Mai pushes the plate of pizza towards him.

"All yours my friend" she states with a hint of disgust. She personally prefers Thursdays. Thursdays are burger days. She gets one almost every week.

"One more day…" she says poking at her salad with a spork.

"You're such a burger whore." Walter scoffs, in tune with her lunch desires. Mai rolls her eyes.

"Proudly!" She raises her spork in the air like a sword to the sky. Walter laughs.

"Hey, why were you late to homeroom this morning?" He nibbles on the pizza crust. Mai shrugs.

"My alarm went off late or something, I didn't wake up until almost ten till seven. My uncle had to drive me to school." She sips some iced tea.

"How are your uncles?" Walt asks tentatively.

"Good. They are good." Her quick reply is coated in distain for the topic.

Walt sees this. He wishes she would open up more, but he doesn't push. He never pushes; when she's ready she'll talk to him about it. He knows that she'll be as comfortable with him as he is with her one day. Walt's faces gets serious for a moment.

"So… are you going to the winter formal this weekend?" He highly suspects she isn't. She rarely attends class functions outside of school, "Because, I was thinking that maybe we could go…together."

Mai stops jabbing at her withered lettuce. She's never been asked to go to anything before, not a dance, not a party, not a date. She looks Walt up and down in his seat across the table from her. He held her gaze, his eyes full of serious assurance and nerves. She thinks of a thousand ways to say "no", a thousand excuses not to go. A small pit of unnecessary worry grows in her stomach, but she makes a quick decision.

"Sure."

"Wait… really?" Walter's unsteady smile crosses from ear to ear.

"Yeah, I think that would be a lot of fun." Which is the truth, she hasn't been to a social function in years.

"Um yeah, yes!" The boy's grey eyes are glowing.

"How about you pick me up at my house around 5:30?" Mai says innocently.

"Sure!" The bell rings ending lunch.

"Sweet, I'll call you later tonight and we can figure out details I guess?" Mai picks up her tray and walks to the trash bin, Walt follows like a lost puppy.

"Yes, that sounds good. Good plan." He's tongue-tied.

Mai smiles to herself as she walks to her next class.

_Bad morning, good afternoon_

* * *

**A/N: I hope you are enjoying the story so far. I'd love to know how I'm doing. Write me a review if you have a minute. **

**Stay tuned this week, I might drop another chapter in early. It's sitting in my file folder itching to be read... (No promises, but there's a good chance.) **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So... I couldn't wait. I've been stoked to release this chapter since I wrote it almost two weeks ago. Also we're celebrating the best viewing stats I've receive since initially publishing. It might not seem like much, but 85 views in the first 12 hours is pretty exciting for me. **

**Read on. **

* * *

The dress hangs on the back of her door; royal blue, knee length, strapless, full skirt. She adores it, standing in its presence, taking it in. Her hair is pulled up delicately. Shaggy bangs sweep to the side, framing her face. Her makeup is minimal, simply accentuating her features; a touch of mascara, balm that brings out her lip's natural rosiness, a hint of a shimmering powder dusted on the high points of her face. It crosses her mind how surprisingly girly she is, being raised by hunters and her only friend being a guy. The guy that will be picking her up in about fifteen minutes.

She takes down the adored dress. The zipper slides up her back as she fixes herself into it. The color of the satin fabric makes her deep blue eyes pop and her freckles stand out even more than usual. She feels beautiful. She looks beautiful. A flutter of disappointment comes over her as she looks in the mirror. Her uncles aren't here to see this. They up and left this morning on a tip they received from Bobby. Although she can imagine how it would have gone.

Walt wouldn't even have picked her up, Dean would have driven her over to Walt's house, not before Sam snaps pictures on his phone and digs out the old Polaroid for one last shot with the three of them. At Walt's house his parents would take a thousand more pictures and then her uncles would threaten Walt to some degree and demand Mai be home precisely at 11:00. After that Sam and Dean would sit in the parking lot of the school during the dance just to be safe. But this is all assuming she and Dean were fine.

_We are fine. We just have a different relationship now. _

She pushes the thought from her head and slips on some low pumps. Her jewelry is simple, thin dangling earrings and her silver locket; the keepsake that houses a picture of her mom and dad. She touches it nostalgically as it falls against her chest. Part of her hopes that they can see her, but she knows that would mean her mother is a vengeful spirit, and it was impossible for her father to be in this world.

A knock is heard at the door. Walt is early. Mai more or less anticipates this; she figures he'll want to meet her uncles. A spritz of perfume flies in the air and Mai walk through it. She grabs her clutch and rushes down the steps in the most ladylike fashion she can manage through all her excitement. In her head she runs over the story she has prepared for why her Uncle's aren't home.

_Visiting my grandpa in Kansas and will be back in a couple days. They're sorry they can't be here._

In reality both of her grandfathers are dead, but she keeps John Winchester alive in case he's needed, like now. There's another knock on the door, this one a bit impatient.

"Hold on Walt, I'm coming" Mai yells, smiling. She opens the door.

"Not Walt." The boy kneeling at the doorstep says. The boy being Jett, or rather what's left of him.

Mai drops everything in her hands.

"Fuck." The word falls out of her mouth involuntarily.

Jett's a broken mess. Bruised and coated in blood; some is dried, some still seeping out of wounds. He holds his right shoulder which Mai can tell is popped out of its socket. Claw marks rake his side and there's a softball sized burn on his thigh where his jeans have been seared.

"…Aw, fuck" Vulgarity is a rare thing for Mai.

As if on instinct she leans down and pulls the older boy into the house. Jett groans and recoils in pain with every move. If she can get him into the bathroom, it'll be easiest to work on him there. Jett leans against the girl, trying to get himself on his feet but failing, most of his weight falls on Mai. He'd scarcely made it to the front door when the pain began to set in again. He starts to shake. The boy has to be over 170 lbs. Mai's barely able to move him forward, but she digs into the floor and tosses him into the bathroom. He falls to his knees and leans his left side against the tub.

"Demons…" He respires.

She knows the next step would be to pull out the medical kit from under the sink but she takes a moment to process what's happening. She looks down at her dress and back at the boy buckled over in pain on her bathroom floor. It's evident that the dance is no longer in the picture.

_Fuck_

She grabs the cordless phone and calls Walt's cell.

"Mai? Hi, I'm heading out the door now to pick you up, you ready?" Mai cringes and puts him on speakerphone as she hunts for a bottle of Jack in the kitchen.

"Walter, I'm so sorry. There's been a change of plans. I can't go tonight my Grandpa John just had a heart attack." She feels dirty at being able to lie so smoothly to her best friend, "We're leaving for Kansas immediately." Her guilt overwhelms her, "I'm so sorry."

Jett moans then swears loudly in the background.

"No, Mai he's family go be with him, is something going on over there though?" She snags the medical kit and throws it towards the bathroom door.

"Yeah, no. That's my uncle Dean, very torn up, it's pretty emotional. I have to go. I'll talk to you on Monday." She hangs up before he can say goodbye.

Head hung, she can envision Walt at the door in his suit, with a thin royal blue tie and his floppy red hair almost tame. His face is utterly disappointed but equally concerned. Facing him Monday is going to be the worst. But there are more pressing issues, such as Jett and his broken everything. She kneels beside Jett at the tub. Blood has spilled out everywhere, but she decides the first thing to do is reset his shoulder.

"I'm going to pop it back in okay?"

She touches his shoulder causing him to wince. He nods hesitantly. Mai bends his arm and grips his elbow pulling away from him. Placing a hand on his forearm she begins rotating the elbow. Jett grimaces, giving sharp grunt in pain and tenses every muscle, but he holds in how much it actually hurts. He isn't going to start sobbing like a little girl because of a dislocated shoulder. He's a man, and even more, a hunter.

"Almost…"

They hear a 'pop' and the shoulder snaps back into the socket. Jett falls back away from her, and gingerly rolls his shoulder. It sears pain with every motion.

"Wasn't so bad" he says more to convince himself than reassure her.

She's emotionless at this point. There's a job to be done. She shoves the bottle of Jack in his face.

"Drink. I don't have drugs strong enough to take away the pain. You'll need to kill it with alcohol." Grabbing some scissors from the kit she starts cutting off his pants.

"Woah! Not on the first date." He exclaims downing a swig of whiskey.

His remark is the friendliest he's been to her since they met, it also reminds her of Dean. Jett takes another shot of liquor. She pulls his shredded jeans out from under him. The burn on his thigh is only a second degree burn, which gives Mai some relief. She makes a cool compress with a cloth and applies it to his mid-thigh. She can feel him pull back. He sips again from the bottle.

"You're getting pretty handsy there Miss."

She wonders if attempting smoothness is his coping mechanism for the pain or if he just turns into Casanova after such a small amount of alcohol. Either way, she can't stand the nickname "Miss".

"My name's Mai." She informs him pressing a fresh compress onto the burned flesh. He pressed the bottle to his lips and breathes out.

"My name is Jett with two 'T's." He holds up two fingers and drinks some more. Mai shifts herself closer to him and starts cutting off his shirt.

"Shit Mai, I liked this shirt."

Being in such close proximity she can smell the reek of other mixed alcohols. He has definitely been chugging down the hard stuff before she handed him a bottle; trying to numb the pain no doubt. How did he even get here this drunk? Why hadn't she noticed as she was dragging him in? At this point those questions are irrelevant.

From the kit she grabs gauze, rubbing alcohol, a needle and some thread. Cleaning out his wounds, she goes to work on his claw marks. They are deep and still dripping blood. She applies pressure but her bandages keep bleeding out. Her knees now rest in a pool of red ooze. Nothing seems to be stopping it and she wonders if the alcohol is thinning out his blood making it difficult to clot. Didn't she read about that somewhere? He is losing blood quickly and she curses herself for not tending to this sooner. Without time to figure out if her hypothesis is correct she grabs the bottle of whiskey out of Jett's hand as he presses it to his lips for another quaff.

"What the hell was that for!?" He shouts at her.

"You're losing blood fast dumbass. Aren't you light headed?"

She adds more gauze to the area applying pressure until her wrists can't take it anymore and she has to switch positions. Jett's arm holds steady to the side of the tub as she pushes into him. Mai can see his veins stand out and hear his nails dig into the acrylic. The blood continues to seep out of his side.

"The fact that you are even still conscious after the amount of alcohol you've consumed is astonishing to me." She starts to panic.

Something must have ruptured when she was helping him in or setting his shoulder back in place; he wasn't bleeding out this quickly when she answered the door.

_Some real medical help would be wonderful. Oh bleeding please stop. Please! _

A cold shiver runs down her spine through her arms and into her blood covered hands. Incandescent warmth spreads over her palms, down to her fingertips while an oscillating cold rotated back and forth in her shoulder blades. Paresthesia runs up and down her arms, tensing every muscle. In an instant the sensation comes on and dissipates. Mai shakes it off as a weird chill at first, but then the bleeding stops. The bleeding actually stops. She peels away the soiled gauze. The slashes on Jett's side are gone. She breathes out more profanities.

He is completely healed in that one area. His skin is fresh and untarnished; there are no scars, no bruising, no swelling or redness. It's as if he had never been sliced. Getting closer and taking another look, she runs her hands up and down his abdomen to make sure she isn't delusional. The blood on her fingers smears against his skin.

"Again Miss Mai, you're getting handsy…" Jett's words slur. He's fading into a loopy state, most likely a combination of the booze and the blood loss.

"How the hell…?" She removes her hands from his body, completely at a loss. For a decent amount of time she stares at his bare skin, bare skin that's magically reattached itself together.

_What is he? _

* * *

**A/N: Dun, dun, duh! **

_**I have zero medical knowledge, just putting that out there. Google is my best friend during times of gore. **_


	8. Chapter 8

The first thought that comes to her head is shifter. Grabbing a silver knife from under the sink, she nicks him on the arm. He bleeds, not burns, and barely flinches.

"What are you doing?!" He yells sobering up a bit, "I came here for help not to be attacked again!" Mai holds out her knife defensively.

"What the hell are you!?" She sprawls back towards the toilet. Jett looks down at his now perfect side. He's speechless.

"I'm sopping up blood, and my hands!" She holds them up, "My hands go all warm, and I look down and you're that!" She points to his bare skin with the knife.

Jett apprehensively touches his abdomen jerking his hand back upon making contact. He trembles, running his fingertips across the area, making little circles. The pit in his gut grows weighing him down unable to move. His breathing becomes labored, his eyes grow wide, and between the shock and the booze, he can't hold it in anymore.

His body convulses and in a hot flash, he falls sideways onto his hands losing the contents of his stomach on Mai's feet. The puke is liquid fire coming out of his throat; it reeks of every alcohol. He dry heaves painfully. Weak, his body throbbing, more of the sticky yellowish-brown bile escapes him. The taste lingers on the back of his tongue. He hangs his head, his dark straight hair falling in his eyes. Sweat coats his body.

Mai tries to hold it together, leaning her back against the toilet, closing her eyes and barely moving as the boy retches all over her pumps. Her relatively new and favorite pumps. But right now, the state of her shoes is not the most pressing matter on her mind. She refrains from vomiting, gagging at the smell. Vomit doesn't sit well with her, most other smells she can handle, but not vomit.

_Don't puke, don't puke. Don't smell it, don't throw up, Mai don't! Keep it down!_

The small bathroom has become a hellish pit of sensations. The sound of Jett retching and dry heaving. The smell of booze and bodily fluids. The heat that seems to be trapped in the small area. The hot sticky feeling of watery vomit in her shoes. The dull lighting that flutters slightly because the bulb needs replacing. The anxiety over what happened with the young man's wounds. And on top of everything, she's concerned about how to get the blood stains out of her dress. She can't take it anymore.

Mai kicks off her shoes and escapes to the living room. She screams at the top of her lungs.

Jett pushes himself up off the floor feebly; embarrassment overwhelming him. Lightheaded and sick, everything in the world seems out of place, nothing is making sense to him. She asked him what he is, but what kind of healing hands does she possess? He hadn't done a thing. She was the one rubbing her hands all over him, digging into his wounds. Then suddenly he's fixed? He tries to sit himself up, a difficult task with his injured shoulder. The fall down had put extra weight on it causing shooting pain on impact. He could feel the swelling start to set in. He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his mouth which tastes like death.

Using his good arm to hoist himself up, he attempts standing. Weak kneed and faint from throwing up, he's unable. His endeavors gain him a quick visual black out, pulsating headache, intense throbbing in his burnt leg, and a realization that he still has other wounds in need of attention. They all hurt like a bitch. Any attempts at moving from his spot are futile without some assistance. The only person available to assist him is in the living room having a meltdown. One would think being around hunters her whole life she would have it together better.

Jett realizes that he's on his own for the moment. He reaches for the bottle of Jack, but the smell makes him gag again. He slides it away from him, not wanting to go through that hell twice. Sick to the core and still hammered, he rests his head against the wall and listens to Mai pace back and forth in the other room. She has louder feet than she realizes. The young hunter closes his eyes. Sleep would be nice, sleep and relief from the rest of his pain. Frankly he knows it isn't going to happen. He has to get up and fix himself if she is just going to panic out there.

He twists his mostly naked body as much as he can to grab hold of the needle and thread. The mirror above the sink isn't an option for him to use since he is grounded. No other mirror is in sight. He'll work on his right arm first. Taking in a breath, he pours rubbing alcohol over the wound. It's just deep enough to need stiches but not many. Becoming somewhat ambidextrous over the years when it came to stitching, he feels confident he can finish cleaning up all by himself. He can barely thread the needle. His fingers won't hold still enough to shove the little string through the eye. After many stubborn attempts he gives up. His head pounds out, his temples pulse, he's feverish and exhausted, not to mention drunk.

"Mai."

No response. He tries a little louder.

"Mai!"

Again there is no response.

"Miss Mai! I'm not magically pulled together everywhere! I'm human okay? Please come back in her or drag me out or something."

The loud pacing of feet stops. Jett waits for her to come back into the bathroom or at least talk to him. But the feet start pacing again, this time sounding farther off. Is she leaving? His anger at her grows.

"Damn it Winchester! Don't just leave me here!" He roars.

Mai walks in through the kitchen side door holding paper towels and a garbage bag.

"Shut it Rhone. I didn't forget you and your remaining boo boos." Her sass is crippling.

She absorbs a large amount of the barf-blood cocktail with Jett's tee shirt and throws it away. Mopping up the rest with the paper towels, she adds his destroyed jeans to the bag. Putting her arm around his torso, Jett gains some leverage. Pulling him up is a difficulty for both parties involved, but they eventually bring him to his feet. Mai walks him into the living room and he sees the real reason for her pacing. She has moved the couch closer to the fireplace which now had a roasting fire burning inside. She sits him down on the couch. Propping up his feet she returns to the bathroom to get the medical kit.

Wordlessly she sits down at the boy's side and sterilizes a fresh needle; threading it with ease and steady hands. He expects her to butcher him, but her stitches are smooth and gentle, he can barely feel them. Her freckled face is serious. Her full lips are pressed together sternly, her blue eyes are focused; delicate fingers make steady stiches on his forearm. Jett relaxes a bit. The teenager feels the most comfortable he's been since this morning. Mai ties off the thread and cuts it, moving on to his face.

Jett breathes her scent in during their closeness. Other than the stench of his puke, she smells like faded perfume and hairspray. Her fingertip grazed his cheek bone, he finds this soothing. She slides the needle into his cheek again tying up each stich as she goes. The light of the fire casts a shadow over the left side of her face. Loose hair falls into her eyes but she doesn't stop to push it away. Jett gazes downward at her dress. It's covered in blood and vomit and who knows what else; his blood and vomit and who knows what else. What an excellent impression he must be making on her. He wonders for the first time why she's dressed up, where she was going, and who Walt is.

"You look pretty."

Mai's fingers stop for a moment; she leans back and looks up at the hunter. That has to be sarcasm; the drunken boy has to be mocking her.

"Seriously?"

"Yes?" He doesn't understand the annoyance in her tone, "You just look like you have a date or something."

"Or something…" she remarks sadly but with an edge, "thank you I guess." She returns to working on his face.

Jett doesn't attempt conversation for a while. He looks down at himself.

"I'm naked." He states bluntly.

_Shoe's on the other foot now. _Mai thinks to herself childishly.

She hadn't even thought about his lack of clothes until now, but her brain can't help but assess the in-his-underwear-Jett who sits inches from her. She tries to focus on the stitches again, but her cheeks betray her, giving off an involuntary blush. Jett can see her face flushing a bit of scarlet under the dim lighting. He smiles to himself, but chooses not to say anything.

She ties off the last stich on his face and covers the area with a bandage. It takes her all of ten minutes now to clean up his other cuts and scrapes. After slipping his arm into a makeshift sling and cleaning up the supplies, Mai hands him a blanket.

"You can sleep down here tonight. We can find you some clothes in the morning." She starts to walk away but Jett grabs her arm. His eyes are lethargic but pleading.

"Will you stay down here with me for a while?"

_No. _

"Sure." She takes a seat in the plush chair to the left of the couch.

"Do you remember being at Bobby Singer's house?" He closes his eyes letting his head fall onto the arm of the couch.

"Yes, you and your grandfather stopped by."

Jett laughs harshly.

"I cut loose from that ass hole."

Mai doesn't respond, but Jett rolls into a monologue.

"He's a kill first, figure out if they are human later kind of guy. I couldn't take it, you know? I was fighting him all the time, he wasn't listening. This life isn't as black and white as everyone seems to think. Frankly… It's like I'm the only person who cares about them."

Mai still sits and listens to the rant.

"Like maybe I'm just the idiot who cares too much about the feelings of monsters… 'They're going to kill eventually'. Well, you know what? Bears kill people eventually! We don't slaughter them off the planet!" He pinches his fingers at the bridge of his nose and rubs his hand down his face, "Okay, not the best example, but you get my point right?" He lifts his head and looks at her waiting for a response.

"Yeah." She humors.

She pities him being without family. She can understand being at odds, judging family members on their bad choices, fighting with them, being estranged for periods of time. But other than her family sympathy, she can care less about his little existential crisis. She's more of a black and white person herself. Evil is evil and if it's not pure evil it's a predator to humans, simple as that. Jett though feels satisfied that he's persuaded her into his viewpoint on the subject.

"You should get some sleep." Mai suggests.

He sprawls out on the couch as she starts to leave the room. Words are mumbled from his mouth, but Mai can't make them out. She stops in the entranceway and gives her guest another once over. He is already fast asleep. In the morning she'll figure out what to do with him, but for now, she's going to shower and get some rest herself.

* * *

**'Fangirl' by Rainbow Rowell. I recently read it and it was wonderful! Put it on your must read list instantly. Sorry for the cheesy book plug, but I had to. Reading it inspires me to write more fanfiction. **

**Also, reviews would be wonderful, but I promised myself I wouldn't beg for feedback. **


	9. Chapter 9

Waking up starts with a massive headache, then solid pain all over Jett's body. He wishes he can forget last night, he wishes he can forget that whole day and seventy-five percent of his life. No matter how much he drinks he'll still remember though, and last night is no exception. He sits up sorely. Sunlight shines from down the hall and the smell of coffee hangs in the air. A set of clothes are on the table; a pair of sweatpants, and a long sleeve thermal, both a greyish heather color. Jett shivers as he slides them on. He takes the blanket with him to the kitchen, wrapping it around his body the best he can. The one armed life is not an easy one, but at least he'll heal.

Mai sits at the kitchen table with one knee to her chest while resting on the other leg. Cup of black coffee in hand and nose in a book of lore, ash blonde hair loosely combed, but still very messy. The clock reads 7:12 a.m.

"It could be any number of things." She states as Jett walks in the room.

He looks at her a moment but catches a glimpse of the mug she had left out for him beside the coffee pot. His priorities are coffee first and conversation second. Blanket still wrapped around him, the chilled boy pours himself a cup and sits down across the table from Mai. He becomes colder just looking at the girl. She's in a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, no socks.

"How are you not cold?"

"You live here long enough you get used to the draftiness."

Mai watches him dump three spoonfuls of sugar from the dish into his mug. She silently judges his coffee preference.

_At least he's not watering it down with milk._

"Do you have any creamer?" He asks her.

She gets up involuntarily and fetches him some milk out of the fridge. He thanks her and pours a decent amount into his drink. She focuses back on her book. Jett takes a sip of the tan liquid; it does the trick. It spreads through his body, branching out in a warm wave over his limbs sending a tingle down to his toes. It touches his soul and eases some of his discomfort momentarily. Then the feeling is lost and he must take another sip.

"Your magic skin could be a number of things." She says again.

Jett stares at her blankly, wondering if she has been up all night doing research. Last night didn't sit well with her and she had trouble falling asleep. When she did manage to close her eyes it didn't last long. Many times she tip-toed downstairs and checked on her guest. Mai tells herself that her trust is earned not given freely and that she doesn't trust Jett. The smart thing would have been to kick the wounded boy to the curb, call her uncles, and hide in the Fox Hole until help arrived. Instead, she fixed him up, let him sleep on her couch, and never made any attempt to call for assistance.

Inside she is terrified. Mostly terrified that she's just being stupid and that Jett is a who-knows-what waiting to kill her. But the thought of calling the boys for help on this, having to answer why she let Jett in in the first place, listening to Dean lecture (that is assuming he'd have anything to say to her at all). She can't do that. She can't deal with her family becoming involved in her mess. This_ is_ her mess, her mystery to solve, her puzzle and problem to work though. She can do this by herself, she's a big girl.

"Hoo doo, Voo doo, celestial beings, gods from pretty much every culture. I ruled out shifter and witch though. The silver knife didn't burn you and I couldn't find hex bags anywhere."

Jett nods pressing his lips together.

_But seriously why would a witch want to heal a hunter? _She asks herself.

"So we've got nothing?" He rephrases.

"No solid leads." She closes the book and watches Jett sip coffee. "What do you remember? From last night's hunt."

"I got the snot kicked out of me by demons." He states bluntly.

"What was the case you were working on?" Mai questions. The story of last night should give away some clues. Jett took a long slip of his coffee before answering.

"They were just… here. Working the crossroads, possessing people. I was working alone, got cornered and made a break for it. I drove here… it's the closest hunter-friendly spot I knew of."

"Anything out of the ordinary?"

Jett gave a derisive laugh.

"Is this a case now? Are we hunting whatever patched me up?" He took another sip.

"This isn't odd to you? That you were bleeding out and now perfectly fine?"

"I would hardly say I'm 'perfectly fine'." He sets down his mug and gestures to his shoulder and stiches. Mai ignores his point.

"What caused your claw marks in the first place?"

"A hellhound." His voice in dry and his eyes are distant. Taken aback, Mai doesn't push any other questions. He answers aren't producing clues anyway.

"Do you want some breakfast?" She changes topics.

"I'm fine; I'll be leaving soon enough."

"You'll be driving out of here with one arm?" Mai raises an eyebrow.

"I'll be fine."

"You should stay here."

"I already stayed the night; I really need to get going."

"To finish your hunt? You really think you can accomplish that now?"

"They're still out there." His voice is defensive.

"Screw that, I'll get Bobby to call another hunter." She doesn't understand why he's being so stubborn.

"No!" he says aggressively. Mai goes quite.

"No, it's… this was personal business. I'm sorry; it's not just another hunt for me." He readjusts his shoulder in the sling.

"Okay." She says quietly, "…Can you give it a few days? Wait for your shoulder to heal more?" her voice is sheepish, but she holds his gaze.

"…Okay."

After some breakfast that Mai insisted on, Jett takes his bag from the car up to the guest room. It's an open airy space. Facing the front of the house, the large windows let in quite a bit of light. You can see down the driveway, the edge of the highway, the top of the barn, everything in the clearing. The walls are white which matches the furniture. The floors are the same wood that branches throughout most of the house; that rich chestnut color.

Jett tosses his bag onto the queen bed. It embraces him softly as he sits down. It's much kinder to him than the couch. He runs his fingers over the bedspread, a powder blue quilt with tiny snowflakes embroidered in. He can't remember the last time he's slept in a real bed, it has to have been at least a year.

He rolls his shoulder slightly and winces. In all his years hunting, this is the first dislocated shoulder. It hurts, far more than the guys on TV make it seem. Mai's right, he's in no shape to hunt with a shoulder like this, but he hates to admit it. He pushes himself off the bed and slips down the hallway, passing Mai's open bedroom door. Light from the back of the house shines in her windows, the white walls glow golden yellow. Her bed is made precisely, notebooks are stacked neatly on her desk, the open closet shows her orderly folded and hung clothes. He stops for a moment to take in its tidiness.

"oh…" He turns at a voice. Mai is sliding out of another bedroom. She quickens her pace, stepping in front of him and closing her door. She doesn't say a word to him, but continues on downstairs.

"Mai, there's a thousand things that could be, did your friend give you anything else to work with?" Bobby is as clueless as she is.

"No, she just said she was patching up a guy and his wounds vanished."

"Well, I've never heard of Hellhound wounds just diminishing. Who is this friend of yours anyway?" Suspicion is evident in his voice. Mai bites her lip.

"Just a girl who goes to my school…"

That isn't a complete lie. Mai does attend her school. She can almost hear Bobby rolling his eyes as he sighs on the other line. He knows something's up, but there's no way she's bringing up Jett. Bobby will update her uncles and that would be a horrible mess. She doesn't exactly trust Jett, but she can handle this. She can handle him.

"Look kid, if your 'friend' remembers anything else about the incident then I'd be glad to give my two cents. But as of now, you've got a load of crap to roll in. It's hardly enough to start a case."

"I wasn't looking to start a case on it. She's just …unsettled by the ordeal."

"Yeah, I would be too. Well, tell me if you get any new leads on this. Okay?"

"Okay thanks Uncle Bobby."

"Call me if you need anything"

"Will do, bye." She hangs up.

Not even Bobby can give her answers. She leans back in the leather office chair and stretches her back. Muscles are tight with the ache of too much research, the neck muscles especially. She rolls it back and hears it crunch. Stretching it like that isn't good but it's the only thing that helps somewhat. Everything in her is still sore, stiff from sitting all day, mentally drained from yesterday, tense and on edge about housing a practical stranger. Although she can't complain about that, she's the one who asked him to stay.

_He's no threat. Besides, I can't let the stubborn ass run around like that. _

She glances down at the cell on her desk. One missed phone message and four unread texts, all from Walt. Figuring out the supernatural culprit of Jett's skin regeneration isn't the only reason Mai planted herself in the study all day. She convinces herself to read the texts.

Walter Pipp (11:35 A.M.): _Hey, just checking on to see how you all are. I hope your grandfather's doing okay. Text me back if you want to._

Walter Pipp (1:35 P.M.): _Checking in again. Call me if you want._

Walter Pipp (4:46 P.M.): _So I heard that someone pulled the fire alarm at the dance last night. Would have been a total bust anyway. ;) _

Walter Pipp (6:24 P.M.): _I know I'm being a freak for pestering you so much. Just want to know how things are going. Maybe you haven't even checked your phone, Hell maybe you left it at home. I guess I'll see you tomorrow? _

Mai's phone has been on the table the whole time. She has heard every ring, every buzz, and cringed every time. Now after reading she feels compelled to reply. His obvious concern about her family sickens her. It's just another lie, another story she has to throw together, another "family emergency", and this time it's Walt.

_He's a good friend. _

Her thumbs do a contemplating waltz in the air above the phones keyboard. They are trying to find the right words, the right story, the right lie. After a few emotionally frustrating seconds, she typing out her answer, testing the waters, seeing if this will be the falsehood she'll stick with.

Mai Winchester (8:13 P.M.): _Hi. No, everything's okay now, it wasn't a very serious heart attack, the doctors got him through, we're driving home now. I'll see you tomorrow. _

Mai hit's send and feels dirty.

Jett is standing in the kitchen when Mai entered the room. Lying to her best and only friend deserves some emotional eating, and there just so happens to be two pints of ice cream in the freezer. Without a word to her guest, she removes Rocky Road and Strawberry and hunts for a spoon.

"You want some?" She asks Jett as she grabs a bowl.

"Sure."

"Rocky Road, strawberry, or both?" She spoons a hefty amount of Rocky Road into one of the bowls then adds half a scoop of the strawberry.

"Both I guess." He continues standing in the middle of the room. His face is puffy his eyes are dull from recently waking up from his second nap that day.

Mai serves him equal amounts of both flavors then shoves the containers back in the freezer. If he weren't there she would have eaten it straight from the carton and sat on the floor. Then again if he weren't there, she wouldn't have a reason to lie to her friend and emotionally eat her guilt. Instead she hands him his bowl. They stand in the center of the room together, eating the frozen creaminess and not making eye contact. Neither understands why they don't sit down, but standing feels the most comfortable, strangely. Amid the clatter of spoons scraping bowls Jett asks her a question.

"What do you do around here? Like for entertainment?"

Mai's taken a little aback by that comment, as if he's accusing her home (and by default, her) of being boring. She sees that as an overreaction instantly, but still feels the need to reassure him of how fun her house is. She tries to think of the "million things" she does around her for fun, but every one escapes her brain. Looking back, she can't think of anything that's really enjoyable. These past two years all she's really done is exist in the house. Go to school, do hunting research, go shopping down at Speedy Hut. She can't think of one thing she's done to make herself happy. Except for the dance she missed. That was her first solid move towards fun in a long time. And par for course on her life, she didn't get to attend.

"Nothing." She says honestly, feeding another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

"Okay then." He too takes another mouthful.

"We have a TV and a bunch of old movies." She says trying to perk the conversation.

"I saw it in the living room." He adds, nodding his head.

The conversational distance between them is not uncomfortable for her. He's a stranger, she's offering him a place to stay and heal, is there really need to be buddy buddy and share hopes and dreams? She prefers keeping her distance from him anyway. He will be leaving soon, and for all she knows he can be dead within the next month. Getting close to a hunter just doesn't seem practical.

She glances up at him from under her bangs as the last bite of ice cream falls on her tongue. He is looking down at her, no longer eating, and below his furrowed brow he eyes are soft and kind. His mouth doesn't move from its straight stiff position. His hair sticks up in a number of directions from his nap. His bruises and scrapes wear down on him, making him look haggard and beat. He looks utterly terrible, but he still has something in him. Something that Mai can't discern. Something that makes him look less broken almost. His staring makes her shift in her spot and she feels an involuntary blush come on.

"Thanks for the ice cream." He says in slightly deeper voice than normal still looking down at her.

"You're welcome." And Mai places her bowl in the sink.


	10. Chapter 10

She hikes up the driveway Wednesday afternoon. She's left Jett alone while at school these past few days. It's a stupid move on her part. She knows better than to trust this practical stranger. Dean wouldn't, Sam might. Jett is capable of more than Mai gives him credit for because of his age and injuries. She mulls this over in her brain.

_I'm being naïve and impractical. But he hasn't attempted anything yet. It's only a matter of time. Or he'll heal up and be on his way… _

She is inevitably waiting for the floor to fall out in this situation. She's waiting for Jett to jump her. Waiting for him steal something and bolt in the middle of the night. Waiting for him to burn the house down, or somehow bring a demon in, or call a pack of vamps to come kill her, or torture her and use her as bait for the Winchester brothers. The last option makes her blood run cold and small part of her brain wonders if Dean would even care in a situation like that. It's such a faint thought; it dissipates as soon as it sprouts.

Mai's feet shift through the snow causing little troughs to form from her path. In spite of all the things that she knows can and is expecting to go wrong, she still allows him to stay. She not only allows him to stay, but allows him to stay in her home alone each day as she's at school. It's almost like trusting him.

_I don't trust him. If I trusted him I wouldn't be expecting the worst. I have no trust in that boy. _

She tries to find reasons for her asking him to stay in the first place. If a pro/con list were to be made, the cons would clearly outweigh the pros. But she doesn't have it in her to kick him to the curb in the middle of winter. Maybe her naïve faith comes from the way she wakes up and his stolen car is still parked in the drive, covered in fresh snow. From the way she checks him in the middle of the night to find him curled up in the guest room bed, deep in sleep. From the way she double and triple checks the supply racks and nothing's missing. From the way he seems so wounded in his sling. From the way he sits quietly staring at the fire, lost in thought; his drowsy, abysmal, shutting out the world thoughts. From his look, his difference, his essence of non-hunter, his aura of civilian who's seen too much.

Mai kicks snow off her boots as she climbs each step. Before she can reach for the handle on the front door Jett opens it as if on cue. He surprises her a little but she tries not to show it.

"I saw you coming up the drive from the window." He says straightly.

"Oh." Mai walks into her house removing her boots and coat, placing them in the closet.

She passes him and goes into the kitchen. The white walls seem brighter than normal in this odd February afternoon sun. For the first time Mai realizes how monotone the color scheme really is. The furniture is white, the walls are white, the cabinets are white, the sink and stove and refrigerator are white. The only change in color is the flooring and the blue tile countertops. The whole room feels sterile. Yet it's messy. Dishes are beginning to pile in the sink, boxes of opened cereal sit on the countertop, random junk has accumulated on the table.

Mai moves some of the junk out of the way as to sit down and pull some books out of her backpack. She doesn't have much homework this afternoon. The teachers barely send the kids home with anything. When they do Mai can accomplish it in study hall most of the time. She napped through class today though, so a few worksheets need to be done as well as some reading for history. They are studying ancient Greek mythology; nothing Mai hasn't researched a hundred times over, nothing she doesn't have plenty of books on. The thought of her school taking a semester to learn about Greek Lore, makes her chuckle.

Head bent, out of her peripheral vision Mai spies Jett take a seat in the chair adjacent to her. His arm is still in the makeshift sling. He still looks broken. Mai tries to rein in her focus and read. Jett rests his forearms on the table, leaning in to read over her shoulder. His cigar and Amber smell floats under her nose. She shifts to the right, attempting to distance herself without looking up from her book. Her eyes reread the last sentence, but her peripheral doesn't stray from Jett.

Mai has reread the last sentence close to four times now failing to grasp the context of the words. Letter after letter, word after word, sentence after sentence, to no avail. She closes the book and leans back. Jett gazes at her but doesn't move. The stitches on his face seem to be healing well, and the bruises are already starting to turn greenish yellow. His face is very smooth but Mai knows he hasn't shaved.

_Just how old is he? Maybe he just can't grow a beard. _

"How old are you?" She asks.

Mai kicks her feet under her chair, resting them on its rung. Jett doesn't even look phased by her abrupt question. He lifts his feet and lays them on the seat of another chair under the table.

"Nineteen" he leans back, pulling his crossed arms to rest against his abdomen, "How old are you?"

"I'll be Seventeen in May." She tries to sound mature.

"So Mai is born in May?" He gives a little halfcocked laugh, "Creative."

"I wasn't named after my birth month." Her tone edges on defensive, "It's the Chinese spelling or whatever. M-A-I."

"Total coincidence then?" his tone edges on sarcastic.

"What kind of name is 'Jett' anyway?" Mai turns. Jet's smile falls from his lips.

"A family nickname."

"Short for?"

"My full name."

Mai internally rolls her eyes, but doesn't press the question.

"How do your stiches feel? They look less red today." She asks.

"Better I guess."

She doesn't have to lean over much to touch his face and examine her handwork. The girl brushes her finger underneath the row of blood coated thread. Her focus is on the stiches, his focus is on her.

"We should take those out soon." She adds softly.

"Okay."

Mai looks up at Jett and holds his gaze without as much as a flinch or a blink. She can't quite read him. What is that expression? What is that look in his eyes? Why does it make her nervous?

"Are you hungry?" she pulls back keeping his gaze.

"I could eat."

"You like tacos? We're kinda low on everything, but we've got meat and tortillas." Hopping up, she walks over to the fridge.

"It's like 3:30 in the afternoon."

Mai shrugs, "We'll eat early."

She removes some frozen ground beef from the freezer and sets it in the microwave.

* * *

"Hold on… I'm almost done." Mai picks out the last of the stitches from Jett's face.

He winces a little. Pulling thread through you face isn't the most comfortable experience in the world, but Mai has done this countless time for her uncles and is gentle. She cleans up the area and adds a bandage.

"Good as new." She packs up the medical kit and leans back on the couch.

He's staring at her… again. It seems like every time Mai turns around Jett is watching her. It's unsettling but his gaze is soft. A chill rolls down her back at the thought.

"Almost good as new." He rolls his shoulder.

"So I was doing some more research about what happened the other night an-"

"Stop." He interrupts her.

"What?"

"Let me guess, you still didn't find anything, but there are a bunch of bunny trail leads that will most likely be dead ends?" Mai doesn't respond, feeling insulted. Jett continues, "For the record, I don't care what happened, or what fixed me."

"This isn't suspicious and a problem for you?" She can't believe him.

"No, it's a blessing. I was bleeding out of _hellhound_ wounds and now it's all patched up inside and out. I'm okay not questioning it."

"A blessing?" She snorts in disbelief, "It's something supernatural, no doubt in my mind. This is dangerous." Mai stiffens in her frustration. Jett sits entirely too cool and collected for her liking.

"Call it an act of God." His words are confident and reassuring.

Her feelings towards his outlook are conflicted.

"This house is everything proof. Nothing gets in." She mumbles, unsure why.

"You sure about that?" Jett inches closer to her, sending a smug little smile, "I got in."

"We haven't sorted out idiot proofing yet." She turns her head and focuses on the fire again, pulling her legs under her.

"Hostile. What's with the hostility Miss Mai?" He seems honestly hurt. Mai glares at him.

"You're a case, a blatant case for hunters everywhere, and you yourself being a hunter don't even care. You won't even try to figure out what happened."

"You're still stuck on this?" Jett rolls his head back and stares at the ceiling.

"It's your job, and you're ignoring it. Save people, hunt things, your job." She crosses her arms subconsciously closing herself off, shutting in her opinion.

"That's not my job!" He yells.

"Bull!" She returns, game for a fight.

Jett grunts and leans forward over his knees.

"My job is to hunt down the demons that shredded me. That is my one and only job after that I am out." His tone is serious and pissy, but calm. He seems to have said his piece.

But Mai isn't done, she's ready to scream till she's hoarse and prove her point, make him care. She's hotheaded and stubborn and it's been over a year since she's had someone to scream at. Every thought bubbles back up in her head about that night, that last pissing contest she got into. Pent up rage now had a body to be thrown at. It now had an outlet, even if the outlet was another fight.

"No one gets out!" She yells back at him.

"I was out!"

"I can see that." Her sarcasm lays thick.

"What is your problem with me all of a sudden?!"

"You're just accepting of what happened. You don't even care that something could be wrong with you!" her words are grunted through grit teeth.

"So you're upset that I'm not upset?" His brow furrows, totally lost.

Mai jumps off the couch to yell at him, gaining higher ground to help prove her point.

"You are a stranger and in my house and broken and it's an unnerving fact that you are magic skinned or whatever and you don't even care!"

Jett's face tints with concern and realization. As his brows relax he looks at her with soft pitying eyes.

"So you're scared?" he says quietly.

A pit arrives in Mai stomach. Her fists curl into tight balls, blood rushes to her head and for a second she feels dizzy.

"I'm not scared!" She shouts eyes closed, voice strained, trying to stand her ground but feeling that he's not understanding. Then again, maybe he reads her better than she reads herself.

"Mai, I'm not going to hurt you…" His voice is reverent again, like the first time she heard it.

"I'm not afraid of you!"

_That's a lie. _

"What is the problem then?" Jett stands to face her.

She instantly feels small in his presence. He gains at least three or four inches on her, she has to tilt her head back to look him in the eye since they are so close. The small amount of power she felt in this debate has fleeted. In its place is frustration that her outlet is quickly disappearing and the rage inside her hasn't dissipated. She crosses her arms, this time consciously trying to close him out. This conversation isn't supposed to be about Mai and the problems she avoids, this is about Jett and his lack of responsibility. He's a hunter and she feels he should act like one; that he should jump on that which is suspicious.

"Do your job instead of leaving me to clean up your mess. I don't want to be collateral damage here." Her glare is cold.

Jett takes a small step towards her.

"So you're looking out for number one." He holds her glare with an unreadable expression. Instinct tells Mai to throw a punch and run away, but she's been denying her instinct since the beginning with this boy. "But as cold as you come off I can still see that you're scared."

Her blood boils. She can't believe the audacity that he has. This is not about her! Her lips grow tight with that anger, her breathing labors slightly; her heartbeat pounds out heavily rather than fast. In a general reaction rather than choice, her outstretched hand whips him across the face.

"I'm not scared, you son of'a bitch."

For a second, Jett looks almost shocked. She figures he probably wasn't expecting that, a smug touch of smile graces her face through the hatred. Jett turns his face back towards hers. Even in the dim firelight, Mai could see the red imprint of her palm starting to form along his cheek. Jett shakes his head roughly and rolls his neck with a crack. Her smug touch drops and she stiffens herself and he draws closer to her. With maybe a few inches between them, the air feels hot, and the pit in Mai's stomach grows larger.

She wonders if she shouldn't have done that. He is far bigger than her and slightly older, he's a trained killer like all hunters, he's practically a certifiable maniac for the things he's seen and done. And Mai? Mai is all alone, with this stranger. A stranger who she poked like a sleeping bear, a stranger that has some healing mojo that he may or may not be in control of, a stranger that she actually _is_ afraid of. He's a stranger that now holds Mai in a compromising position as he leans in closer.

Yet, through all her fear and instinct to bolt, she holds her ground. She stubbornly embraces her space and waits for him. He holds his head next to her ear and the Amber is practically overwhelming to her senses.

"Then prove it" he whispers.

Every muscle in her body tenses, ready to ponce, ready to fight, ready to elbow him in the shoulder and run for the knifes. She knows nothing about fighting but she can't stand the way he exists in her life. She will fight his tooth and nail, maybe no smoothly or strongly like her uncles can fight but she will give it her all until he is gone for good. So in the second after his words fall close to her ear, she gives him a shove to his shoulder.

Jett gasps at the shot of pain and Mai turns to run, but he is one step ahead of her in this mess. He latches onto her with his good arm holding her back flat against his body and restraining her arms. She fights to move her torso but for as slim as he is, he's strong. Her feet kick in the air trying to shake herself free or unbalance him. He just holds her tighter, pulling her on top of him to the couch. Her legs dance in the air the whole way, but he wraps his around them. When she tries biting, he gives her a shake, when she tries to wiggle, he grips on tighter.

"What the Hell Winchester!?" He shouts at her.

"Damn it Rhone! Let go of me!" She thrashes, he grips.

"No! What the hell is wrong with you? I don't want to fight!"

"Then let me go!"

"I have no faith that you are not going to try and knife me or something. Damn it, I told you I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm not afraid of you!"

"Yeah you keep saying that."

"Let me go!" Her voice screeches. She kicks some more and bites at his fingers to no avail.

"Mai! …MAI!" his shouting deafens her for a second. She shakes and starts to panic.

"Just let me go!" She cries. Real tears form in her eyes.

"Mai calm down." His tone is much softer, soothing almost.

"Just let me go…"

The tears fall, the levee breaks, the shuttering and waterworks begin, and Mai is lost. She stops thrashing and Jett release his grip on the girl. Tears drip down the sides of her face as her sharp breathing stabs at her lungs. She hates crying, she always has hated to cry. She doesn't even notice that she can free herself. She doesn't think about the fact that she's wrapped loosely in Jett's limbs. She doesn't think about how she rises and falls with his breathing. She doesn't notice that his face is in her hair or that his thumb is making small circles in against her left arm.

Mai is too busy crying. Crying for reasons she can't think of. Crying for everything probably, because everything hurt. She cried for a long time on top of the boy. She just looks up at the ceiling and lets out a sob, forgetting that he's right beneath her. After a while she calms down.

"Okay…" She sighs, "I promise not to knife you."

* * *

**A/N: So I have now seen every episode of Supernatural and man this has been a roller coaster of crazy. I had only finished season 8 the day before the season 9 finale ****premiered. So of course, had to binge watch in a week and now my everything in broken. That was something wasn't it? It was everything I wanted out of this season to be honest. I really enjoyed seeing Jensen play this version of Dean. On the other hand, the ending made me want to puke out a lung. But all in all, I think season 9 is my new favorite.**

***POSSIBLE TRIGGER FOR SEASON 9 FINALE* **

**The reason I bring it up being, The boys are far from the people they were in season 1 or 5 even. It almost feels wrong to write them like this. Human, normal (relatively speaking). Granted we don't see them as much in this particular fic, but does anyone else feeling torn now when writing about them in a past season? Nothing else seems to matter after the 9 finale. On the other hand, I want to protect them and write them back in softer seasons. I want to curl them up and toss them back into this safe non-cannon, Post season 5 AU. Because I can protect them here. **


	11. Chapter 11

The water cascades out of the shower head. Mai doesn't want to get out. The steam fogs around her, making the air thick like a blanket that blocks out cold chills. She sits in the fetal position on the shower floor accepting the hot water that trickles over her. Last night was a mortifying experience. She picked a fight, a pointless fight, he took her down instantly, and she started to bawl.

_Idiot, idiot, idiot…_

She doesn't want to go to school in the cold, or get out of the warm shower, or face Jett this morning, or do anything. The thought of having to do _things_ makes her cringe. She wonders the time. In her head, she sorts out what she can sacrifice today for more time in the shower. Makeup isn't that important, and breakfast is optional. Her steam time is cut short by an abrupt change in the water temperature. Either she's run out all the hot water, or the pipe burst again. Praying for the former, she pulls the handle down to turn it off. A sting of curses run through her head.

Mai steps out and dried herself off. The bathroom is still comfortably steamy. With most of the showering spent curled on the floor, Mai's legs lacked shaving, but being winter it's not as problematic. She continues on with the rest of her morning routine; brush teeth, dry hair, no makeup, but she picks up her book bag and a thick cardigan sweater from her room. Mai just needs to grab some coffee for the road, lace herself into her boots, and she ready to go.

Jett is sitting at the table when her feet reach the ground floor. He holds his sugar-filled coffee-milk in hand and takes a sip as she walks through the doorway.

_Take a breath, pretend it didn't happen. Oh please don't bring it up dude…_

She gives a short calming breath through her nose and nods to him. Her "'Morning" is short but polite. He does the same; nods, returning her greeting. In times like these Mai finds it best to busy herself. Left foot and right foot are forced by her brain away from the doorway. Procuring coffee is a good task to fill the time until she's ready to leave. She searches the cupboard for a suitable travel mug, making sure to avoid looking at him. Fear of eye contact makes her stare blankly at the coffee pot.

Although, this experience isn't half as horrifying as she had envisioned it being in the shower. It's actually an almost comfortable silence, like most mornings with him here. She thinks maybe she can escape without last night being brought up. 'Escaping' meaning, going into the near freezing temperatures and walking quarter of a mile along a snowy highway, to sit at school for seven or so hours. Maybe, just maybe she can choose on hell over the other. With the way he isn't talking, maybe he won't bring it up at all. Maybe he already can read that it's an unspoken quondam encounter, Maybe…

"How are you feeling today?"

_Shit…_

Mai cringes.

_So much for 'unspoken quondam encounter'._

Mai shuffles over responses in her head. Most of her energy had been on figuring out how to avoid this conversation or simply dreading the idea of it. She's yet to give thought on confrontation and her approach to that. Mai refuses to play Doctor Phil with this guy; she doesn't even play Doctor Phil with Uncle Sammy. She pours some coffee into the mug in her hand and turns around. Leaning against the counter, she wonders if she can evade the conversation still.

"I'm fine."

"…You sure?" He doesn't turn around to face her. Mai is equally relieved and disappointed.

"Well, I'm not looking forward to going to school." She only slightly jokes, attempting a switch in topics.

_Please talk about the weather. That agitating 'nothing to talk about so let's complain about the cold' small talk would be perfect right now. _

Instead, there is a pregnant pause in the conversation. Jett continues staring at the bathroom door in front of him. Mai studies him from behind. He seems relaxed, arm still slung, hair a bit messy. He's dressed; dark jeans, black tee shirt with a grey thermal underneath, thick socks. Finally his shoulder tenses as he picks up his coffee.

"Don't go then." he takes a sip.

"What?" She laughs a little. Jett turns in his seat with a face that is dead serious.

"Don't go to school. Stay here today."

"But I have to go to school."

"Why?"

"It's school." She stresses the obvious point.

"Do you have a test?"

"Well, no, not today-"

"Then stay home. Play hooky."

Mai stares at him; squinting her eyes, biting the inside of her lip, giving it serious thought. She wavers what Sam and Dean's reactions would be if they found out she skipped school.

_Uncle Sammy would get pissy. I could bet money Dean wouldn't care… He'd have to care to get mad. Dean's a dick.  
Why does this matter? It's one hell or the other; out there with the school or in here with this boy… It actually hasn't been that bad I guess. School really sucks, the cold really sucks, I complain about the cold too much. I'm not a person for cold though! I just want sunshine again…  
Off topic! Do I stay or do I go? That's a song… It's still the question of the day.  
Jett probably won't mention last night again. He already kinda brought it up. We can just drop it now. The worst is over right? My uncles? I can handle Sammy, and Dean's a dick so I really don't care. When he cares, I'll care._

"Okay. …Yeah, I'm staying home today." She finally lets out.

"That's the spirit." Jett nods with a smile.

Mai drops her book bag to the floor in front of the stove. Breakfast is no longer optional, it's now a requirement. There's not much in the fridge; meaning a slice of cheese and some left over taco meat. She closes the door, taking a seat next to Jett at the kitchen table. Black coffee in her travel mug steams up. At least there's some liquid caffeine to perk the start of her day. But with the first sip she scowls.

"What is wrong with the coffee?" She sticks out her tongue. Jett shrugs.

"We're out of beans so I had to re-heat and re-brew yesterday's leftover grounds." Jett states taking another drink, "You get used to it."

Mai shakes her head at him.

_Not today, no more gross coffee or stale cheerios and taco meat breakfast. _

She takes the white ceramic mug out of his hand, pouring its contents down the sink.

"Hey! I was drinking that."

"We're going to get a real breakfast." She states walking out the room, "Grab your keys, I'll drive."

The waitress at Waffle King pops her bubble gum.

"Do you want to hear the specials this morning?" She asks directly to Jett.

He smiles a smooth charm-filled smile Mai has never seen before. It seems very 'Dean-like' to her, although more honest in nature. All the grins she's seen her uncle pull on women have been a devilish sort of charming. Jett's is sly of course, but it almost feels innocently flirtatious. Both devilish and innocent forms of charming seem dangerously playful to her. But what does she know? No one has every shot her a charming smile of either sort.

"I think we're good, if you could give us a minute though. Thanks." Jett replies.

"Sure thing." her hips pop as she walks away, clearly dancing to whatever music is rolling through the headphone Mai noticed tucked into her left ear.

Mai tilts her head, watching the girl walk back into the kitchen. She intrigues Mai. With her bright fake orange hair pulled into a ponytail, a few studs pierced into her cartilage, dark wash ripped jeans, and cherry red lipstick that compliments her pale skin. Her uniform tee is chopped and tied up the sides. Mai has been admiring her style since she was hired a few years ago and likes to see what color the waitress's hair is every time she drops in.

Jett notices that his breakfast partner is distracted. He follows her gaze to see their waitress working at another table.

"Is she your type?" He asks in all seriousness.

"I like her hair." Mai answers unthinkingly, still admiring the edgy confidence the girl has.

"So, she's your type." Jett's tone is suggestive, but his face stays blunt. Mai returns her attention to their table and replaying his words in her head puts two and two together.

"Oh! No, I like guys…"

"Oh" Is his only reply. She again can't read his expression.

_Is that relief? Maybe unbelief? Is he just mocking me?_

Mai decides that she really sucks at reading people. She takes a sip of her coffee and focuses on the menu even though her order is already decided upon.

The diner is one Mai comes to often after school or with her uncles. Lines of pleather booths sit under the windows while square tables take up the interior of the space. By the door is an arrangement of fake ferns that Mai doesn't believe have ever been dusted. The counter and table tops are patterned with small green, cream, and grey boomerang shapes interlaced together. The awful avocado and grey color scheme gives Mai a wave of nostalgia. If the building had any other décor it wouldn't have been Waffle King to her. This morning a scruffy older gentleman sits at the counter and a few other patrons occupy various tables, but it's not particularly busy.

Outside it is snowing… again. Mai peers through the window for a moment. An old station wagon rolls down Main Street with the tail pipe streaming exhaust behind it. A couple bundled up in business attire, walk the sidewalk with heads hung to avoid the wind. If she cranes her neck, she can see the large clock of the courthouse. She thinks to herself that this is entirely too small of a town.

"So you like her hair?" Jett makes conversation. Mai turn her head from across the booth.

"Yes." She looks down again at the menu.

She doesn't feel compelled to make conversation and would still like to avoid it at all costs. Last night's embarrassment settles fresh in her gut. Also, without conversation, Mai doesn't have to run the risk of him returning to the conversation he started earlier. The one that she so desperately prays was taken care of back at the house. They are having breakfast because the fridge is empty; it's not a social call to her, or a forum for buried emotions she refuses to acknowledge. But Jett frowns at her as she's not looking. He sets down his own menu, leaning in over the table, and clears his throat. Mai slowly lifts her head to find the boy much closer than before.

"Are we cool yet?" He asks.

_What the hell? _

"What are you talking about?"

Jett sighs sharply,

"Are we cool? Are we past this whole 'stranger that will kill me in my sleep so let's be on edge all the time and avoid conversation' thing you've been playing since we met?"

Mai scowls at him. Is he asking for trust? She can't do that, she knows better than to trust him. Dean wouldn't trust him. Dean's also an ass hole today, but Jett could very well still kill her despite everything that's happened. With her being so off her game last night, Mai figures she's only managed to make herself appear feeble and defenseless. She picked a fight and he took her down instantly with one arm. She needs to keep her guard up, right?

"Can we just not be at odds? Because I think we can be valuable to each other." He doesn't even blink.

Mai still doesn't understand what he's getting at and his wide-eyed stare makes her shift uncomfortably in her seat.

_Why the hell would I choose to get attached to you? _

"Valuable how?"

"Like friends."

"Excuse me?" She chokes.

"I've been watching you this week Miss Mai and I realized that you and I are not so different."

"Pardon?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't have many friends, if any. You don't do anything in your house except take care of it and do research. School bores you and you don't have a car."

She can't deny anything he has just said as it's all true.

"So?"

"So, I don't want to be at odds with you. I swear, I am human and I'm not going to hurt you." His eyes are honest, Mai can read that much.

"I am _not_ afraid of you."

_I'm apprehensive of your presence there's a difference. …Right? _

"I want to be your friend Mai." He repeats.

"But-"

"So are we ready to order?" Orange Hair waitress interrupts them. She throws a flirtatious smirk in Jett's direction. He glances up sideways at her and cocks a charming one of his own. Then he nods to Mai.

"Miss Mai?"

"I'll have the special." Mai says handing Orange Hair her menu, "Eggs over easy, corn beef hash, rye toast, sausage links, waffle, and a cup of fruit please." She orders in one breath.

"Impressive." The waitress gawks; Mai simply blinks at her and lends a polite nod.

"And for you?" Orange Hair turns to Jett. He looks over the menu one last time, stumbling for his order.

"I, uh… I'll have the short stack and a side of bacon? Please." He hands over his menu with another smile, giving a hefty amount of eye contact.

_Maybe she's your type. _

Orange Hair walks away with a wink that Jett doesn't notice. Instead he returns to their previous conversation immediately.

"So are we cool?" he pours himself more coffee from the carafe.

"I don't know you. We have no real history other than this week and one night a few months ago."

"You opened your doors to me to let me live in your house for the past five days. I was more of a stranger when we met." His point is hard to debate.

"And…" He lowers his voice, "there's last night… I don't take you as the freely crying to acquaintances type..." Mai can't breathe at the mention of her sob fest. She's almost certain that her face matches the bright red of Orange Hair's lipstick.

She darts her eyes anywhere but at the boy across from her and sinks into her seat. If ever a time to die of embarrassment came, she feels like this would be it. Jett reads her body langue and stares down into his coffee. After a heavily awkward silence he finishes what he was getting at.

"Anyway, don't tell me that there isn't something here, that we can't be friends."

Mai stares through the window again, trying to conjure an argument to counter with. She tries to find some sort of word to say to him, tires to push out of her mind the unrelenting fact that Jett clearly remembers last night, tries to breathe and turn her face back to its normal color. Jett waits patiently for her reply; the hand of his good arm wrapped around his white ceramic mug. After a few moments without any reaction from his peer he speaks again.

"Like I said before, I think we can be valuable to each other."

She turns back to him tentatively.

"How?"

She searches his face for something, anything, and nothing because she doesn't know what she's looking for. He sighs, looks her in the eye like he has most of the conversation and when he answers his voice feels reassuring.

"…You'll see."

She wants to deny the points he's made, but they're all valid. Something is here. Something that makes her contradict her instincts, break the common rules, shelter him, care for him, make him her problem, and most of all avoid telling her uncles. She's never been this reckless. She's never broken down her walls enough to cry in front of someone. This slim boy in front of her, with gentle blue green eyes. This broken boy with his arm in a sling and face still marked from his stitches. This boy who has never hurt her, never proven to be anything chthonic, he wants to be her friend. He says they can be 'valuable to each other'.

_What would being 'friends' even include? Would that mean he'd pop by like our other hunter friends do? Would I have to introduce him to Sam and Dean? That sounds less than pleasant… _

"Fine."

Jett's eyes light up a bit.

"Is that a 'yes'?"

Mai rolls her eyes.

"It's a 'yes'." She fiddles with the zipper on her jacket, a pit growing in her stomach.

"Yes, we can be friends?"

_He's really pushing it. _

"Yes, we can be friends." She says through slightly grit teeth.

"Good." He leans back in the booth and pours another packet of sugar into his coffee.

* * *

"Should we get to know each other?" Mai asks from her side of the couch.

Jett made a fire when they returned from breakfast despite Mai's assurance that she could build one. He said he 'wanted to'. She stood aside and watched him stack the logs and adjust the kindling with one arm. It was a little impressive to her, although Mai would never admit that. She mentally called him a 'show-off' and wished he would let her take care of these things. It's her house, he's her guest; she doesn't need him to take care of her.

"Okay… What do you want to know?" He looks her in the eyes.

_More eye contact… _It makes her uncomfortable for reasons she doesn't understand. She tries to procure a question, racking her brain for anything she wants to know about the young hunter.

"Have you ever had a home? Or has it always been hunting?"

"I had a home, but it burned down. A completely civilian electrical fire. We lived in an RV for a long time until I went to live with my grandpa when I was… eight, I think? He got me into hunting. Well, dragged me into hunting..." His voice trails off, "What about you?"

Mai feels unsure still about talking over her past with him.

"You're not allowed to ask me a question that you won't answer yourself." Jett states as if reading her mind. Mai freezes.

_Oh god, please don't be a physic! _

"Well…It was me and my mom in an apartment until she died. Then my uncles found me and I didn't have anyone else so we all moved here …Until about a little over a year ago they didn't really hunt at all anymore."

Jett nods and Mai closes her eyes for a second. Talking about her family to an outsider is a first.

"You like music?" Ready to change the topic, Mai walks over to the bookshelf behind them.

"I do." He rests his good arm over the back of the couch and turns his head around watching her.

Mai sifts through the stack of CDs that she's collected over the years.

"What kind of music do you like?" She keeps searching for the album on her mind.

"I don't know. A little of everything I guess."

"Here." She pulls a worn and cracked case out from under twenty some other CDs, "You like The Flaming Starfish?"

"Never heard of them." He shrugs.

"Listen." She sets the disc into a stereo system.

After adjusting the knobs and buttons, music starts to slip out of the speakers smoothly. Falling back into her seat, she closes her eyes, absorbing the sounds, tapping her fingers to the beat, mouthing the lyrics that she knows by heart. It's her favorite album. For the first five songs neither of them speak, just listen.

"This was my first CD." She says eyes still closed, "Some kid at school in seventh grade was taking requests for albums. He'd download them online for people. I just told him to make me a mix and he brought back this." Mai's lips mouth another line of lyrics before she continues, "I've played it... probably a hundred times since then." Another fun fact she's yet to share with anyone.

"I like it."

Mai peeks open her eyes. Jett sits much closer to her on the couch than before.

"Yeah." She readjusts herself.

Jett looks in her eyes with the gentle expression he's always sending her. Pushing away the discomfort that makes her blush under his gaze, her thoughts trickle to her family. It's the big problem that's been harboring in the back of her mind since she agreed to his camaraderie this morning.

"My family can't know about you." She addresses.

"What do you mean?"

This boy isn't something she is ready to give over to her uncles. Jett is hers, her problem, her guest, her secret, and she likes it that way. For the first time in her life she's calling the shots. This is something of her own, something that she doesn't want scrutinized and taken away from her. _She_ wants to control this friendship, _she _wants to play adult and have a guest of her own, _she _wants to hold onto this freedom. She's in too deep to let her uncles know about him now anyway.

"You can't come back here when they are home. And you can't tell Bobby that we know each other." She bites the inside of her mouth. These precautions are embarrassing.

"I'm allowed to come back?" He raises an eyebrow with a smile. She rolls her eyes.

"'Friends' right?"

"Yeah… any particular reason you're ashamed to be seen with me?" His voice is mostly sarcastic, but she knows there's always a little truth in sarcasm.

"I'm not ashamed of you, it's just… My family… They don't know you. And they'll be bitches about this, and it'll get weird, and…"

"You don't want that?" He interjects.

"This is messy," she states, dodging admittance of wanting this friendship. Jett purses his lips thoughtfully, looking over Mai's face.

"Okay," He says finally, "We're a _secret_."

"You don't have to say it like _that_." Mai mutters guiltily.

"I don't care how you want to play this game, house rules are fine." Jett shrugs.

Mai looks down at his feet, black Converse high tops as always. Sam and Dean's friend Garth hunts in Converse too, although when Jett wears them they look more rebellious. Jett looks rebellious she realizes. The rugged features, the disheveled hair, the dark clothing. He's a sketchy character on the outside, but his kicked-puppy eyes and soft demeanor give him away. Maybe that's why she's let him stay, why she wants to be friends. Past the harsh shell his job has produced, she sees the little kid. Past the hunter reflexes and the stiff expressions and the 'manliness', she sees someone who needs someone. He needs someone, and she can fix that.

"Can I ask you something?"

Jett nods. Mai hesitates a second.

"Why do you want to be friends with me?"

Jett looks down at his lap. She worries about what his answer will be, maybe she doesn't want to know. It's a curiosity though, does he simply need her? Is there something about her he actually enjoys being around? She can't imagine any reason for him to want to continue communication with her after he leaves. Sure she's played hostess and nurse for him a little, but she's also been moody, cold, and borderline bitchy the entire time.

After a few moments Jett finally lifts his head. She braces herself for his response, not knowing what to expect. Jett simply produces one of those charming smiles he'd flashed the waitress, as if it's nothing and says,

"Because I like you Miss Mai."

* * *

**A/N: Going to be out tomorrow so you get this chapter a day early. ****I wasn't really in love with it, but while proof reading I ended up adding close to a thousand more words and then BLAM! It satisfied me. That's also how it became the longest chapter to date. But I'm liking the longer chapters; you can expect them to be larger from this moment on. I have a lot of story to get through still. Chapter 11 is only just dipping it's toe into the ocean of my plot. **

**Also the Flaming Starfish are not an actual band to my knowledge. If you're wondering what they sound like, it's open ended to the reader. (Although I personally think they'd be kinda like a mix of The Kooks and Nirvana. Weird, I know.) Imagine your favorite genre and you got the Flaming Starfish.  
**

**And never fear my peeps, I will be bringing in more of our dearest favorite cannon characters in further chapters. I know these past few have been heavily OC, but it's all part of the bigger picture here. This is a Supernatural fic though, so I'm not going to jip you guys of the wonderful characters we've all come to know and love. **

**Finally, don't make me gravel and beg for reviews, it's demeaning and makes me feel all needy. (oh wait... I am needy for reviews...)  
Just drop me a line and tell me how I'm doing, what questions you want answered, characters your excited to see next. Good, bad? I want it all. Don't hold back, I feed off of constructive criticism.  
**

**I always tell myself I'm not going to leave a long love letter of authors notes... I have no self control. **


	12. Chapter 12

_They should be here by now… _

She checks her phone for the fourth time in ten minutes; unnecessarily worrying about their arrival. Is it worry though? It's not worry. Her family runs all over the country fighting pure evil and cheating death; a simple car ride home is nothing to worry about in comparison. No this is different. This is… she refuses to accept that it's excitement. If it is excitement then that would mean she's excited and if she's excited there's the large chance that today will be a letdown.

_No expectations, no disappointment. _

Last year this day was heartbreaking. She was completely alone. One call from Bobby at the end of the day, it poured down rain, she had fallen down the steps and bruised her ankle, and then the power went out. Neither of her uncles called, not that she really expected Dean to. I would have been nice to hear from Sam though.

_Dean and I weren't even on speaking terms back then though… I should have known. Dean and I are talking again at least. _

Her weight shifts to her palms as she leans over the kitchen sink to watch for them. It's a gorgeous Saturday in May. The clearing is flourishing with life again. The snowy barn switched to dusty barn, wildflowers popped up alongside the gravel, sparse bushes filled in, grass out back grew tall. The oak which holds Mai's tree house wears a new set of leaves. All the trees bare growth. The forest is ominously shaded. When passing through, Mai can catch a handful of sunshine patches breaking the leafy barrier. At this point, she can't see the highway from the guest window any longer. A thick canopy surrounds the house on all sides. Her eyes watch for movement. Ten minutes pass with nothing.

_Any minute… any darn minute. _

Mai looks down at her phone. No messages, no calls. She jumps as it vibrates in her hand.

'_1 New Messages'_

Inside she lights up, then forces herself to let go of any anticipation. The foremost idea of who sent her this text is her family, but in the back of her mind Jett's name pops up. Every text message she receives her mind flashes to her new hunter friend. They had agreed when he left in February that he'll call or text before popping in. A precaution in case her family is around. She hasn't heard from him since March when he sent a simple message asking how she was.

But, ever since he left, she's found her thoughts drifting into imagining him stopping by, pondering what they would talk about, if they would talk at all. She's found herself jumping at phone calls and her heart beating while picking up the mail, all the while wondering if there's some way he got ahold of the home phone number or her proper address. She's found herself wanting to see him again and she doesn't like it.

_Stop. Just stop. You're being a freak. Don't think about him. He probably never thinks about you. He's off hunting or whatever. _

She tries to act like it doesn't bother her that he's MIA. She's alone so often, she not sure who she's trying to fool. It does bother her. He jumped into her life, talked her into being more than acquaintances, and then jumps out without a word for months.

_He said he liked me…_

She's replayed his words in her head often. Mai's not naïve, she knows it's platonic interest. She knows he was merely saying that he likes her as compared to strangers or ass holes. The phrase still took her aback on impact. Her phone vibrates in her hand once again.

'_2 New Messages'_

She presses the button and tries to repress anticipation.

Walter Pipp (1:32 P.M.) _HAPPY BIRTHDAY! _

Walter Pipp (1:34 P.M.) _Are we still on for hanging out later? I really want to give you your gift before I leave tomorrow._

Mai smiles a genuine smile.

Mai Winchester (1:35 P.M.) _Thanks Walt! But I told you no presents, we can go to Waffle King later though._

'_1 New Messages'_

Walter Pipp (1:38 P.M.) _too bad, I got you something, deal with it. that sounds good though, do you want me to pick you up? _

Mai is about to start a reply when she hears an engine shut off outside. Doors open and shut, heavy boots shuffle across the gravel, the unmistakable voices of her family. She doesn't even get a chance to move from her perch when the front door opens and Sam and Bobby step into the hallway.

"Mai?"

"Uncle Bobby!" Mai cheers running to give the older man a hug. It's been almost six months since she's seen him.

"Happy birthday kid." She can hear the smile in his voice.

She releases herself to jump onto Sam.

"I missed you…" She muffles into his shirt, arms wrapped around his back. He gives her a squeeze.

"I missed you too."

Mai dismounts and looks past the men.

"Dean with you?" She asks trying to sound nonchalant.

"He's outside …with your present." Bobby answers.

Mai furrows her brows.

"You guys didn't have to-"

"No, we did." Sam interrupts, "Come on"

Bobby nods towards the door that Sammy has just slipped out of. Mai walks cautiously, head spinning with ideas of what they could possibly have gotten her and why they can't bring it in the house.

_Pet werewolf maybe? _She jokes to herself.

The chuckle forming in her throat dies at the sight in the driveway. Mai's mind still whirls, not sure if she should ask if it's hers or not. Dean hasn't noticed her yet. He's still working the tow truck, trying to get the vehicle off the line. Bobby walks over to it, slapping the bed a couple times, before assisting Dean. Mai notices the large bandage wrapped around his left forearm and how he's holding it close to his side. A pang of worry slips through her. As he backs off allowing Bobby to finish, he turns, walking over to Mai and Sam.

"What do you think?" Sam asks pulling her by the shoulder into his side.

"It's mine?" Mai juts out.

"Happy birthday." Dean answers with a hint of a smile. Mai just stands with her mouth open partially, "We figured a truck would work for you. You have your license now, so..." He shoves his hands into his pockets.

Mai looks down at him from the porch steps.

"It was mostly Bobby's idea" Sam says, "He had it in the yard."

"Thank you guys…" Mai finally says, "Can I take it for a drive?" Excitement bubbles out of her mouth. Bobby laughs

"It's torn to crap sweetheart. You're going to have to fix her up first."

Mai deflates, with a thoughtful purse of the lips. Sam speaks.

"I figured you could work on it with Dean."

Sam looks down at her apprehensively awaiting her response. Mai stiffens; her expression is a fake smile and irritation at his meddling. She glances at Dean who doesn't seem fazed and shakes off the pit in her stomach. They are "fine" after all, she wonders if this could be a good thing.

"Come on, let's head inside." Sam pulls on her shoulder a touch before slipping into the house.

Dean follows, brushing past her. Mai sits on the steps and wait for Bobby to finish releasing the truck before returning to worn white building.

* * *

After stories of the road, some dinner, cherry pie with seventeen candles shoved in it, and Sam and Bobby retiring to the study for what Mai assumed to be a little bourbon, books, and research, Mai sits up on a work bench in the barn. Dean's bent over the rusted out engine of her truck. Her 1976 Ford F-150 Ranger long bed pickup truck. She thinks that it suits her. The two tone green paint job is still in decent condition. There are a few cracks in the windshield, one of the mirrors is broken, the engine of course needs attention, but she can see it being hers.

"Hey, are you just going to sit there, or do you want to learn how to fix this?" Dean asks from his spot under the hood. Mai slides off and walks over, leaning onto the car.

"Okay… so-"

"What happened to your arm?" Mai interrupts.

Dean shifts uncomfortably, and continues turning something with a wrench. He looks over his shoulder at her.

"Just an injury from the job." He states, then returns to his work.

"Werewolf?"

"What? No, Mai it's just a cut."

"Was it a ghost, did you get shot?"

"It's a cut." He repeats.

"Did you fall?"

"Mai…" His voice touches on a growl

"How did you hurt yourself?" She retorts.

"Sam ran into me with a machete okay!?" He snaps out from under the hood. Mai silences herself, trying her best to suppress the smile forming on her lips. Dean sees this and sighs.

"He… There was a vampire okay? It ran us into each other and Sammy got choppy… stop laughing!" He frowns at his niece.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't-" she chokes down a chuckle, "I wasn't laughing."

"Can we get back to the car now?" Dean growls.

Mai nods. He hovers over the engine and she follows. The next hour is spent leaning the basics of car engines and taking notes on what needs fixed to get it up and running again. Mai understands half of what he says. The rest of the information she decides she can look up online, too embarrassed to let him see that she's not grasping everything. Somewhere around checking the pressure in the tires, her phone vibrates in her back pocket.

Walter Pipp (7:54 P.M.) _We still getting together tonight? _

_Shoot…_

"Can I borrow the truck?" She asks.

"The tow truck?" Dean asks, "What do you need it for?"

"I told a friend I'd meet him."

"Wait, _him?_" Dean probes.

"Walter, from school. My _friend_" Mai stresses.

"Why don't you take the Impala?" Sam's voice interjects.

Mai and Dean both turn to see the man leaning against the barn door. Dusk sets in around him shadowing his face. Mai's face is frozen in disbelief, Dean's in defense about someone taking his Baby.

"What?" Dean questions disdainfully.

"Call it another birthday present." Sam shrugs.

"Um… I can take the truck." Mai reassures, still shocked that he would even suggest she drive Dean's car.

"Well, not really since Bobby just took it to pick some things up."

"Sammy-" Dean starts, but he's cut off by a Sam Winchester bitch face of epic proportions.

"Here" the tall man holds out the Impala keys for her to take.

Mai's eyes flip back and forth between her uncles, unsure of what to do. Dean looks pissy and contemptuous, but Sam's face is reassuring, pushing her to take the keys. She bites the inside of her mouth, ripping a bit of flesh. Copper tasting blood mixes with saliva in her mouth. Sam rolls his eyes and walks over, resting the keys in her hands. She looks over at Dean apprehensively waiting for his say. His brows are furrowed, but he relents.

"Just don't scratch her. In fact drive _under_ the speed limit." He crosses his arms looking as pissed as can be.

"I promise I won't hurt her!" Mai assures with a nervous smile. She runs towards the house to grab her wallet.

"And no parallel parking!" she hears Dean yell from the barn.

Mai Winchester (8:13 P.M.) _Yeah, I'll pick you up, be there in 10._

* * *

"What the hell is this!?" Walter besieges, faltering down the steps of his house in town.

Mai giggles with a wide smile, leaning out the driver's side window.

"What do you think?" She asks innocently.

"It's… it's… holy crap Mai! Is it yours?" His eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

"Oh god no! I wish; it's my uncles'"

Walter nods mouth still open, "What, uh, what model is it?"

"1967 Chevy Impala. Now are you just going to stand there or are we going to get some waffles?"

"Yeah, Waffle King…" He walks around to the passenger's side, lightly running his finger across the hood and delicately opening the door to slide onto the bench seat. Mai rolls her eyes and puts Baby in gear.

"Just don't touch anything; Dean will kill me if I mess up his car." She pulls out onto the road.

"I will look with my eyes." Walt's voice drifts, his eyes working hard to absorb every inch of the car.

"Yeah, this is a rental for the night… _My_ car needs some attention before I can drive it…" She tests, eyes not leaving the road.

"Whoa! You got a car for your birthday!?"

"It's just an old pickup in need of some love." She chuckles.

"Still! Mai that's awesome! You don't have to walk everywhere now."

"Exactly."

"Choco-PB-Waffle-lotta and two cups of coffee, please." Walt orders for them as they sit down on avocado swivel stools.

Orange hair waitress nods, grabbing them silverware and paper placemats. Mai smiles and notices the strip of pink in her bangs before Orange hair walks back to the kitchen. She vows to herself that one of these days she's going to compliment that waitress on her hair. One day when Mai feels a bit bolder. She reads over the local advertisements printed on her placemat, thinking that she should rip out that coupon for the 24-hour drycleaner before she leaves. A couple of Sam and Dean's suits could be cleaned before they head out again. Dean managed to get vampire blood all over the sleeve of his grey jacket.

"Well it's not a car, but here." Walt hands her a large thin square wrapped in pink tissue paper.

"Walter, you really didn't have to get me anything."

"Shut up and open it." He teases.

She gently rips back the tape and unfolds the layers of tissue.

"Holy crap Walt! Where the hell did you find this?" Mai flips the record over to read the back of the packaging. Walter shrugs.

"The internet. You can order them from their website. I was surprised that they were making vinyl but you know. It's your favorite band so… do you like it?"

"The Flaming Starfish on vinyl…" she echoes still enthralled with reading the track list, "Yes, I love it. Thank you."

She sets down the record and swivels to latch her arms around his neck. Walt stiffens at the contact but after stuttering for a moment he gingerly slips his arms around her back. Mai doesn't let go at first, instead taking her time to hold onto her best friend. He smells like slushies from Speedy Hut and she smiles.

"You're too good for me…" She mumbles in his ear, oblivious to the affect she has. Walt's breath hitches momentarily, but Mai doesn't notice.

"I… um, happy birthday…?" He manages.

Mai pulls back, hands still latched onto his shoulders. She looks deep into his eyes not saying anything, just watching her friend. His grey eyes are confused.

"Um, Mai… our waffles are here."

"Okay." She smiles and removes her hands.

Walt starts cutting into the chocolate peanut butter waffle dessert covered in whipped cream.

"Thanks for being my best friend…" Mai says in a hushed tone.

Before he can respond, Mai shoved a forkful off waffle into her mouth and brushes off her comment.

* * *

Pitch black. 1:27 in the morning. The Flaming Starfish play on Dean's record player that she's borrowed. Mai lays on her bedroom floor, eyes closed, ears open, entire being tingling at the sound. Something hits the window. Mai's eyes snap open, dark blue irises searching the ceiling through the darkness.

_Must have been a bug_

She closes her eyes again, relaxing the muscles in her shoulders as they had stiffened at the sound. Moments of lulling music and darkness pass, Mai finally sifts back into relaxation. She finds this evening to be a beautiful ending to a beautiful birthday. Something hits the window again.

Mai doesn't blow it off as a 'bug' any longer. Another something hits the window. Three times can't be something insect related. She sweeps the needle off the vinyl record without getting up off the floor. She figures they can't see her if she's on the floor. Anyway, she's merely in an oversized tee shirt and a pair of navy polka dot boy briefs, hardly the kind of attire to be consorting with others in. That's assuming that what's causing this noise is human. It could be an animal, or a monster, or a ghost.

Mai thinks about slipping down the end of the hall into Sam's room and asking him to check things out. She shakes her head. It's probably nothing and running to him would be the equivalent of crawling into his bed because she thinks there's a monster in her closet. She knows that it's nonsense. First, there is no way a monster can fit in her precisely organized closet; she barley has room for her own things in there. Second, she's not a five year old. Third, that metaphor insinuates monsters being made up in the mind, where in reality they roam the earth she lives. This noise at the window isn't a certain fact yet, it still could be a bug. Then something hits the window a fourth time, louder than before.

_Not a bug… _

Her heart hitches in her chest at the thought of a particular person waiting for her outside the window, but she represses it before it can be really considered. But is that… whispering she hears? It is whispering she hears. It's a soft "_pssst_" from very close by, clearly the same elevation as she. Curiosity gets the best of her. Mai flips onto her stomach and crawls army-style along the floor to the window. Left hand places itself on the sill, then right hand, and slowly, cautiously, a head of dusty blonde hair bops up until blue eyes and freckles look out into the back yard.

Nothing. No one down below, no one in throwing distance, no one hidden in the bushes, nothing. She feels mixed emotions of relief and disappointment.

_Don't be ridiculous Mai. Stop being an idiot and accept that he's gone._

She pulls the window open a crack more to let in more fresh air. The night is cool to a degree, but still a bit muggy for her room. Then there it is again; "_pssst_". Something has seen her, _someone _wants her attention. She skims over the backyard in the dark. Not a soul in sight.

"Pssst! …Miss Mai."

_Oh shit. _

One being in the entire world calls her 'Miss Mai'; one being that, for as much as her mind's being drifting to him, she does not want to actually see at this time. She pulls the window open the entire way, leaning over the sill with her head craned to spot him.

"Over here… in the tree!" she hears directly in front of her. The voice is barely audible.

_Oh god, he's in the tree house. _

"Jett!?" She whispers hoarsely, "What are you doing?"

"Phone broke. Lost your number; was in town."

Mai thinks of the quietest way to kill him. Bobby is across the hall in the guest bedroom, Uncle Sammy is passed out three doors down, and Dean's in his room on the main floor, but heaven knows they are all light sleepers. She can't go outside without walking down the creaky steps and waking them all, but she can't lean out the window and whisper to him all night either.

_Damn it. You wanted to see him… idiot. _

"My family is home!" her voice shouts in a whisper. Jett doesn't respond. She rolls her eyes and tries to push away her worry and deal with this.

"Hold on…" she says.

Leaving the window, Mai hunts for something under her bed. She hopes it's still in decent condition; it's been years since she last used it. Hopefully it will hold his weight. Her hand grazes the rope ladder and she slides it out. Dusty as hell, but it looks usable enough. She returns to the window, tossing him one end of the braided ladder.

"Attach the clips on the ends to the hooks by the window and climb over." She instructs.

It's only seven or so feet from the house to the tree. When she was younger she never wanted to leave the fortress Dean built her. She would stay up there late into the night. Sam constructed her a ladder that clipped into the windows; an easy entrance to her room. Most people would have seen how horribly dangerous this was; if she were to fall off the ladder it's a ten foot drop. Her uncles had faith in her climbing abilities though, and in all the times she's used it, her trips were safe ones.

She clicks the clips on her end in place to the clasps on the floor. She prays the rope will hold and watches as Jett grasps one of the rungs and slips down to cross like monkey bars. The clips creak, and Mai holds her breath. The last thing she needs is for Jett to fall. For her family to find her sneaking a boy into the house. At 1:30 in the morning. While she isn't wearing any pants.

_I should put some clothes on… _

She moves away from the window and pulls on a pair dirty jean shorts from the hamper. Just as she's about to reach for her bra heavy feet touch the wood floor and huffs and sighs can be heard behind her.

"Okay, that was… something." Jett says at a normal volume. The stillness of the house makes his voice resonate.

"Shhhh!" She hushes, padding over to him swiftly and pressing her palm to his mouth.

For a moment they stand there. Jett's back up against the wall, Mai pressed against him, with her hand on his mouth, looking over her shoulder at the door expectantly. No one enters; no noise is heard in the hallway. Mai finally releases her grip on his mouth and backs away, still on tiptoes.

"My family members are light sleepers, hunter sleepers. Just be very quiet." She whispers.

Jett presses a finger to his lips and nods his head in acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come…" He murmurs.

"You're here now."

"I was in town; just thought I'd stop by, get your number again. My phone got… eaten."

"Eaten?" Mai tilts her head to the side. Jett can just see her questioning expression in the lowlight.

"Yeah, eaten… Werewolf. The full moon was a week ago."

"Oh yeah. Everything go okay with that hunt?" She asks out of genuine curiosity. She always has liked hearing hunting stories.

"Yeah, other than the casualty of my phone… and the loss of your number…" Mai thinks hears something… playful in his voice?

_Is that a flirtation? He's not flirting… wait what? Mai, shut up. _

"Um, yeah. Here, let me write it down for you." She treads over to her desk and scribbles her cell number onto a post-it note.

"Thanks" he says as she hands it over to him.

And then the conversation hits a wall. Mai leans against her desk with her arms crossed over her bra-less boobs, Jett fiddles with the post-it. She wonders how long this visit of his will perdure. More importantly she wonders how he's going to get out of the house when he does choose to leave. Her interest in seeing her new friend again is tainted with the anxiety of someone else seeing her new friend. Of all the times for him to drop by, it has to be on her birthday, when all of her family is under one roof. She traces little circles over a mole on her arm.

_Happy birthday… _She thinks to herself and involuntarily lets out a soft giggle.

"Something funny?" Jett asks.

"Er… nothing, just thinking." She covers.

Jett nods a few times mostly to himself. He runs thin fingers through his hair. It's grown since she last saw him and is now shaggier, reaching just below his eyebrows. Still that dark espresso color and slight unkempt wave to it though. She eyes his face, the scars from his last visit have almost completely depleted. A few new light scratches are laced through his left eyebrow. They have already scabbed over and the outer half of his brow is missing chunks. She wonders the story behind that wound; if it's something hunter-like and heroic or as ridiculous a slip up as Dean's macheted arm.

"Vinyl?" He asks pointing to Dean's record player.

"Oh, yeah, a gift from today." She says, pushing away from the desk and kneeing down beside the machine. The disk still spins, awaiting the needle to conduct its sound.

"What was today?" Jett asks sitting down across from her and resting his arms on his propped knees.

"My birthday." She doesn't know why she's telling him this.

Inside she feels like a glutton for attention for bringing it up, seeing as he'll feel obligated to wish her happy birthday and such. On the other hand, she sees it as a conversation starter. If he's going to be here, it's better to whisper on about something than stare each other down in the dark. Jett takes this information in a very different direction than Mai expects.

"When did your mother die?"

Mai doesn't answer, not sure how and taken aback by the abruptness of the question. Jett bites his lip.

"I'm sorry, never mind… It's none of my business." He retreats

"No, it's… well, it's not. But that's okay…" her mother's been in her thoughts all afternoon, she'll be lying to say otherwise, but family isn't something she just talks freely about with anyone.

Any interest she has in talking vanishes. It's not really Jett's fault she figures, she just doesn't have anything left to say. After three months without a word to each other and she can't think of a thing she wants to ask or tell him. Instead Mai takes the needle of the record player and sets it to the first track. In the short time she's possessed this album she's fallen in love with the layout of the tracks. Her fingers tap to the beat of the drum. In her mind she mimics the guitar. Her eyes close again and she just holds herself in that spot. If she were to open them, she'll see Jett across from her, eyes closed as well, skull resting against the bed's frame, accepting that words do not need to be spoken at this moment.

* * *

**A/N: I am a day late with this chapter, but at least I got to publish this week! I'm caught up on pre-written chapters and I literally finished proof reading this moments ago. I'm a little uncertain of it to be honest, but I promised to publish, and I'm working on keeping promises. **

**Is this sucking? I want honesty, don't hold back bad reviews. Big girls don't cry about harsh words from internet strangers. I can take it. **


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